Unexpected
by duj
Summary: SSHG, WIP, not HBP/DHcompatible. "It's Snape, isn't it? You're insane is all I can say, completely nutters."
1. Alive and Broken

ALIVE AND BROKEN

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**This is another of my very early WIP fics, long-lost and newly found, which I've decided to post before DH. Each chapter is 500 words exactly (in Word). I have preserved it as written, like a snapshot, so it reflects early post-OotP interpretations of canon, a more innocent time for Snape-fans. **

**To avoid pointless flames, I feel I should explain that I don't find it "sick" or "weird" for a teacher to find a post-pubertal student sexually attractive **–** to some extent, a fixed age of consent is an arbitrary artificial social construct **–** but I do believe it is always wrong for a teacher to act on such attraction, because exploiting the inherent inequality of their positions is hard to avoid. **

"There is something I've been wishing to say for a long time that, as your teacher, I couldn't. I'm still not sure I should speak, but I cannot imagine the opportunity will ever arise again and I will not leave it unsaid."

Hermione stared sceptically at her Potions master's straight, black back. For seven years, his every comment had been designed to hurt and now he wished to say what?

"That's – unexpected." Unbelievable.

He nodded.

"You see," he explained softly, " The only way I've ever known to ease the pain of wanting what I can't have is to pretend not to want it."

She sank unsteadily into a chair.

"Oh." That seemed rather inadequate. She licked her lips and tried again. "Does that work?"

He continued inspecting his jars of pickled creatures.

"It provides a distraction."

A distraction. That was a good idea.

"Then, all those times you berated Neville, you wanted –"

"Not him," he said flatly. "Not even dried or shredded."

She wondered suddenly if there'd been anything more to his sarcastic rages than a bully's natural choice of the weakest member of the herd.

"Why did you?"

"That's how I was taught. It made me strong." He shrugged. "The Golden Gryffindors of my schooldays are gone, but I'm still standing."

"You're still broken!" she burst out.

"Is it better to be a happy corpse than alive and broken?" he asked.

"You tell me!"

"How would I know? I never had the option of being a happy anything."

"Everyone has the option of being happy," she said.

"Only a Gryffindor would say something so remarkably foolish."

Back to the familiarity of insults. Good. She could handle that better than revelations.

"You've never even liked me," she said.

"Does one like the sun? It gives warmth and life and light, a reason to wake up in the morning, and when it goes the bright day goes with it."

This was silly. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't.

"I d-don't want to hear any more."

"I thought you would not. Goodbye then." His voice was as calm as if he was talking about the weather, not that he ever wasted words on such a trivial subject.

She stood up, still staring at that rigid back.

"If you knew, then why did you tell me?"

"One never knows what the future may bring. It's useful to know your allies. If by some remote chance you ever need anything from me, you won't be afraid to ask." He shrugged again. "It seemed a good enough reason."

She dashed a hand across her eyes. There was nothing she could say. Better just to leave.

As he heard the door click shut, he turned and sat down at his desk. Slowly and methodically, he sorted the papers until the top was bare. Three hours until the Leaving Feast. Eighteen until she walked out of his life forever. And one day, perhaps in twelve years, perhaps in twenty, he'd find himself teaching her children.


	2. Youth and Maturity

YOUTH AND MATURITY

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein. **

**Spoilers to OotP, not HBP compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle. My review responses will probably be delayed for a few weeks, but I will try to post again next week, in the intermediate days of Passover.**

"What did that greasy git want before?"

Hermione looked at Ron and struggled for an answer that would balance honesty with discretion.

"Only to wish me the best for the future," she said eventually.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "Then why d'you look like you've been crying ever since?"

'Probably because I have,' she thought bitterly. The last term had been a painful end to childhood, with short, sharp battles culminating in a hard-fought victory almost as bitter as defeat, yet nothing had so completely divided youth and maturity as discovering that her teacher thought her old enough to love or (she supposed) to marry. To marry him. It was a generational levelling she'd never expected, a profession of equality she couldn't accept. He was a mentor, a surrogate parent for the last seven years … She'd as soon fancy her father!

But he wasn't her father. And he hadn't been thinking of her as a daughter for a long time. She tried to muster the sense of betrayal she thought she ought to feel, but all she found was sadness.

Ron was watching her through narrowed eyes, one freckled hand tapping on his thigh as he waited for her answer.

"He made me realise how much I'll miss Hogwarts," she said. "It's been home."

School was over forever. Would Ron's friendship end too? Would he be there for her in the future? Looking back over seven years of togetherness, she couldn't help doubting. Had they ever had much in common besides Harry and habit, history and House pride? Would nostalgia glue together what difference was pulling apart?

Ron guffawed.

"It's not going anywhere. If you're that desperate," (she winced) "ask if you can pop in for a visit sometimes. I don't suppose the teachers'd mind." He pulled out a Weasley Wizard Wheezes crystal-ball-pop, cherry-coconut flavour, and spun it on top of his wand. "What's the point, though? 'S not as if they'd really care."

She tried to smile. One at least would care. Professor Snape. She gulped, suddenly cold. He wasn't planning – anything silly, was he? If she was sun and warmth and bright day to him – He wouldn't do – something silly, would he? She shook herself. _Idiot!_ He'd promised help in some remote future. Of course he wouldn't do anything – silly.

The ball-pop glowed orange and hooted like a train whistle.

"Partings and meetings, startings and repeatings," it piped.

"I think they modelled these on Trelawney," Ron grumbled. "They're just as useless."

"At least it didn't say you'd be torn to pieces by Nifflers and fed to flobberworms for breakfast," Harry said, wandering in to the common room at that moment. "What's up, Mione? Been saying a fond goodbye to all the library books?"

Hermione glowered as Ron roared with laughter.

"Don't call me, Mione," she snapped. That nickname was the most irritating mannerism Harry had copied from his newest girlfriend. "My name didn't change when you started dating Mandy and neither did I."

He grinned.

"Oops, sorry, Mione."


	3. Hummingbirds and Roses

HUMMINGBIRDS AND ROSES

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**Spoilers to OotP, not HBP compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle. Review responses may be delayed as it's the middle of Passover.**

"How do you do it?"

Professor Snape did not glance up from his cauldron, in which a delicate mixture was just beginning to change from lilac to silver. There was no need. Hers was a voice he could not mistake. He'd heard it often in his dreams.

"I believe we already said goodbye, Miss Granger," he said when the change was complete. "I imagine you can have nothing to add."

"I want to know how you do it!"

She hurried across the room and laid her hand on his arm. Instantly, he stiffened, though his other arm continued slowly stirring in the mashed Ashwinder eggs in a figure of eight.

"I haven't given you permission to touch me," he growled. "Unless you wish to break the hearts of all your little Gryffindor friends by having their points reduced to zero, I recommend you let go immediately."

He picked up a pinch of shredded rowan-root with a slightly trembling hand and sprinkled it in, rubbing the bits lightly between his fingers.

"You can't. It's too late for that," she protested, but she released him.

"On the contrary," he replied. "You've known since your first year that points can be won or lost until the moment the House Cup is announced."

Another pinch. Now a third. The silver was deepening to a rich grey-bronze. Another five minutes and it would be ready for bottling.

She had retreated a few steps, but was still so close he could have reached out and touched her. Her gaze was like a weight on his face.

"How do you do it?" she asked again.

"Do what?"

"Wake up in the morning if there's nothing to wake up for."

He Accioed the vials and busied himself lining them up.

"Is there an alternative?" he said deliberately.

She gulped audibly.

"What?" she whispered.

"One doesn't need something to wake up for. One either wakes up or one doesn't And once awake, sooner or later one gets up and goes on, so it may as well be sooner."

She stared at him, shaking her head in denial.

"That's all?"

"What else did you expect? Hummingbirds and roses? Of course that's all. Until one day one doesn't wake up." He shrugged.

"I'm sorry," she faltered.

"Pity is a useless emotion that demeans both the giver and the receiver. Go and wash your face. You're not fit to be seen."

His back tingled as he sensed her approaching again. He stood like a rock.

"I have asked you to leave."

"You offered me your friendship before. Didn't you mean it?"

He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady. It had saved him through almost two decades of spying.

"I offered you assistance at need. Do you want my friendship?" He didn't believe it.

"Yes. I do."

"Then you can start by never straying within my arm's reach," he said bleakly.

"Why is that?"

He started ladling the potion into the vials. One, two, three …

"Do you think I'm made of stone?"

**A/N You might recognise a few lines that, on the presumption that I'd never post this, I cannibalised into "Disguise".**


	4. Himself and You

HIMSELF AND YOU

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**Spoilers to OotP, not HBP compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

Professor Snape had always been able to make Hermione feel stupid. He hadn't lost the knack.

She'd seen him smirk and sneer. She'd seen him suspicious, irritated, explosive, incandescent with fury even. It had never occurred to her that all that anger veiled other feelings, ones he wouldn't let himself acknowledge or display; loneliness, longing, sorrow. Still less had it occurred to her that only iron self-control stopped him pulling her into his arms. It occurred to her now. She stepped back a little more hastily than tact permitted.

He had sealed the vials and vanished the last drops from the cauldrons. He started washing his hands.

"What did you have in mind? How can friendship benefit either of us?" he asked.

"Friendship makes life worth living!"

"Does it?" He lathered his hands and rinsed them, frowning, then began drying them slowly, finger by finger.

"Your friends loathe me almost as much as I do them. They will strenuously oppose our meeting," he said. "My honesty discomfits you too much for either of us to be the other's confidant." He shrugged. "There's no reason for our lives ever to intersect again. You're a brilliant young woman, going out into the world and I'm a bitter, old teacher, tied to these grounds for ten months a year."

"Don't call yourself old! You're not even forty." Still in his prime, for a wizard.

"I was old in my cradle. An ugly brat; I quickly learned to expect nothing from anyone but dislike, distrust and disrespect."

"I've always respected you." She'd defended him to her friends.

He gave a short, bitter laugh.

"You? You and Potter are the most disrespectful students I've ever had, defying me in every lesson, stealing from me. You even set me on fire once and, when I tried to save you from a killer, you knocked me out and set him free."

"You were making a terrible mistake. He wasn't a killer."

He replaced the towel with finicking precision.

"Wasn't he? He tried to kill me at sixteen."

"That was a prank," she told him.

"Deadly enough to leave me in life debt to the only person I loathed more than him. While you're Potter's friend you can't be mine."

"Will you never forgive him for being his father's son?" she cried.

"Neither for that nor for being himself. A lawless, heedless, arrogant boy, who scorned all attempts to protect him, who threw himself and you into danger at every turn," his voice sank to a breath, "and whom you love nevertheless."

"You're jealous!" she said. "If you'd ever made the effort to be pleasant instead of wallowing in self-pity –"

"Still the same insufferable know-it-all. If criticism is the friendship you offer, I prefer to dispense with it."

She didn't answer. He noticed she was blinking back tears and scowled.

"Very well, if you must," he said. "You may owl once a month that you're well."

She looked up.

"Will you reply?"

"I'll write – that I'm here."


	5. Brighteyed and Curious

BRIGHT-EYED AND CURIOUS

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**This is canon-compatible to OotP only. Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

"Have you nothing better to do than to harass me with your continued presence?"

"I want to ask you about what you said," Hermione answered.

"You're as nosy as a Niffler," Snape said. "This discussion is closed."

"No, it isn't. You can't tell me you've secretly loved me for ages and then refuse to say how long."

"I never mentioned love."

"Your meaning was perfectly clear. I want to know. You couldn't have fancied me when I was eleven." She hoped not!

Exposure had removed his ability to intimidate her by threats or sarcasm and he had no more duties or outstanding tasks to hide behind. Classes were finished, paperwork completed, desks tidied. There was no need to patrol the corridors today and not enough time before the feast to start another potion.

"Please," she added.

He sat down at his desk and opened it to straighten the neat piles of papers.

"Certainly not, although I did notice you, even then; so bright-eyed and curious, and far too busy mothering Longbottom to be nervous on your own account. You were as caring as a sister and I thought how lucky he was. My mother died young and I never had a sister."

"Oh." She digested this. "I wish I'd known someone liked me. Nobody did, you know. They said I was too bossy and Ron even called me a nightmare once."

"That day you cried in the toilets for hours until Quirrell's troll found you?"

She stared.

"You knew?" The teachers hadn't queried the lie that had got Ron and Harry out of trouble. She'd thought they believed her.

"I've seen enough of screaming and sobbing to know which reddens the eyes. Besides, you were neither stupid nor vain enough to go after a troll single-handed." Not then, before associating with Potter had made her reckless.

"Did Professor McGonagall know too?"

He shrugged.

"We find enough to argue about without prying into each other's House."

"When did you stop seeing a sister and start wanting –" She couldn't bring herself to say girlfriend, wife, lover. "Something else?"

"Sometime in the last year. I'm not sure."

"I still don't understand. If you liked me, then why were you still so –"

"Insulting? Cruel? Rude?"

"The worst you ever said was that you saw no difference in my teeth."

"I would see none if they grew the length of the corridor. Do you think I want you for your _teeth_?" he said.

"It hurt."

"Do you think you have not often hurt me?"

"I wasn't hurting someone I cared about! I mean –"

"Enough." He rose abruptly and strode to the door. "This raking up of grievances and memories serves no purpose. Please feel free to rummage around in my private desk if you've any further need to satisfy your curiosity. The wards will set automatically when you close the door behind you. Don't forget."

"I won't, Professor," she said. "I won't forget you."

But he was already too far to hear.

**A/N Canon doesn't specify whether Snape had siblings, though some have interpreted one of his Occlumency memories (ch 26, "Seen and Unforeseen", when Harry followed him back into his mind) to suggest he did.**


	6. Farther and Faster

FARTHER AND FASTER

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**This is canon-compatible only to OotP. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

**Alerts, review notifications and PMs are not working, but reviews will be visible onsite. I will reply to all when the system unfreezes.**

_Dear Professor,_

_Ever since our conversations that last day, I've been thinking. I can't seem to let it – or you – go._

_You took me so much by surprise I didn't know what I felt, except that I was sure I didn't love you. How could I when I barely know you? Children see teachers in the most superficial way; I didn't even know whether I liked or disliked you as a person. But looking back, I see you, right in the centre of everything. You've meant far more to me than just a classroom tyrant – although you were that! You're somehow important to me in ways the other teachers aren't and I'm still trying to work out why._

_It's funny that the teacher who worked the hardest to keep us at a distance is the one I least want to leave behind. I always thought you were harsh, cruel and unfair; too angry over small mistakes, too ready to humiliate us, too impatient of questions. You made each lesson a misery and I hated it, but I understand now that you meant it for our good. You knew that misery would drive us further than pleasantness. It was your version of what Muggles call "tough love"._

_I suppose every ball needs a wall to bounce against. You were that wall for us. Your unyielding strength challenged us and the more we bounced up against it, the farther and faster we flew. And like a wall, you stood between us and danger always._

_I know from experience that you do not forgive easily. You can hold a grudge for decades, maybe forever. Do you hold on to affection as strongly? I believe you do. You're steadfast, loyal, dedicated, trustworthy, brilliant, stoic and the bravest person I've ever known. You give everything and expect nothing. And nothing is what you mostly get. No wonder you're so sour and untrusting._

_Thanks for caring about me and even more for telling me. I'd never imagined you saw me as anything but a rather irritating student before. It mattered a lot. You and Viktor Krum are the only people who've ever seen past my bookishness –or liked me all the better for it. _

_What I'm trying to say is that I meant it when I asked to be your friend. I'd like to get to know you better. I can't promise to love you – I'm not ready to love anyone like that and I'm not convinced I ever will be – but I do want to be your friend. Will you let me?_

_Hermione_

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Professor Snape read the letter a seventh time and an eighth before he replied. It was more than he'd ever dared hope for. It was less than a crumb.

_Miss Granger,_

_In all that long letter, you neglected to say whether you are well. I hope you are. I'm still here. I will always be here for you. The answers to your questions are: Recognition needs no study. Stronger. Yes._

_S. Snape_


	7. Coffee or Ice Cream

COFFEE OR ICE CREAM

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein. **

**Spoilers to OotP, not HBP compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

_Dear Professor,_

_Please call me Hermione. May I call you Severus or any name less formal than Professor?_

_I'm still in limbo waiting for the Ministry offers. It's the only way to change things, but I have to watch out they don't change me and, if I stay the same, I might end up sidelined, like Mr Weasley. I know there are pitfalls, but I think it's right for me. Meanwhile, I've a summer job in Flourish and Blotts. If you're coming to Diagon Alley, could we meet for coffee or maybe ice cream? May I treat you at Fortescue's?_

_It feels strange not to have autumn term to look forward to. When I met mum and dad at the station, I was glad to see them, but I almost burst into tears all over again because it was my last time coming home from Hogwarts. I've cried a lot more easily since the final battle. I never expected to miss Hannah and Parvati so much, but knowing Hannah might never get out of St Mungo's and seeing Padma lose it at the funeral – well, I miss everyone to tell you the truth._

_Do you ever get nightmares? My worst is finding Draco after the battle. It's silly, I know, to mourn his pale, smooth skin when I'd never even realised he was attractive before, but all those jagged wounds, especially the one where his eye used to be … Do you know how he's doing?_

_I'm sorry, this letter isn't turning out very cheerful. I thought I was over it like everyone else seems to be. We were back in class two days later, studying for N.E.W.T.s, and except for the empty spaces, everything was back to normal, only better because Voldemort was gone. But now I keep remembering._

_Hermione_

Professor Snape lingered several minutes over the first paragraph. Call her Hermione? He'd never allowed himself that, even in dreams. And she wanted to call him Severus! His breath hitched. Severus and Hermione. No, it wouldn't do. He resumed reading, a frown slowly deepening on his brow.

_Miss Granger,_

_Call me Snape. I prefer coffee to ice cream, but Fortescue's is acceptable. Would Thursday week suit? You may not treat me, quite the reverse._

_Nightmares are normal after such experiences. Don't expect them to stop by themselves. Dreamless Sleep Potion works well for occasional use. Shall I send some? Otherwise, I've found the best remedy is to re-enter your dream immediately, still half-asleep, and guide it into happier lines. Heal Draco in your sleep; you can, after all. Unfortunately, life cannot be shaped as easily as dreams. Remembering can be worse than nightmares, harder to bear and longer-lasting. At least you have no actions of your own to regret._

_Draco is recovering slowly. He says he always wanted a magical eye like Moody's. We're trying a potion that may remove the other scars. You may meet him sooner than you think. He's also aiming for a Ministry job._

_Snape_

**A/N Snape's nightmare remedy is my own that I've used since childhood. Somewhat similar to the Boggart/Riddikulus principle, it requires an effort of mind **_–_** and the ability to close your eyes and brave your terror. **


	8. Back and Forth

BACK AND FORTH

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**Spoilers to OotP, not HBP compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

"I can't call you Snape!" Hermione protested as they chose a sunny table outside Fortescue's. "I spent too much of my schooldays stopping everyone calling you that."

"Ah, the respect I never noticed you had. Deeds would have been more appreciated than words," he sniped gently.

"I never did apologise for stealing from you or the times I hexed you," she mused. "I'm sorry. But that's only words too."

He'd forgive her anything if she'd only smile at him just so forever. He cleared his throat.

"Unnecessary. Does a ball apologise to the wall for each bounce?"

He was rewarded with another smile. The corners of his mouth tilted upwards in response.

From behind, a familiar voice called, "Hermione!" and a lanky boy limped up to their table. Then his round, rosy face paled and lengthened with shock.

"P-Professor Snape!"

"Mr Longbottom." Snape nodded. "An unexpected pleasure."

"Y-yes, sir." Neville's eyes darted back and forth, settling pleadingly on Hermione, but it was Snape who spoke.

"We were reminiscing. Won't you join us?" He Accioed a chair as Neville stuttered. "We'll close the topic of your indifferent potions skills forever, shall we?" he added smoothly. "I believe you've heard from me too often on that subject. Hence your Boggart."

Neville flinched and stared at the table.

"We all have fears, Mr Longbottom. I understand Miss Granger's was getting bad marks. If you'll keep it strictly confidential?" He waited for their nods. "Mine was Lupin."

Hermione gasped.

"As a werewolf?" Who'd almost killed him.

"Transforming."

"Is that why you left the room when we came in?" she said.

"I'd promised silence. I couldn't risk it."

"But you did tell," she said.

"After he'd endangered you by forgetting his Wolfsbane? Of course. I imagine you've both found worthier objects of fear since then. You were always full of courage."

"Me?" Neville's eyes widened.

"Indeed. You never missed a lesson. I noticed."

After that, conversation flowed more easily. Snape sipped his coffee and watched Hermione's bright eyes as she compared summer jobs and future plans with her friend. Perhaps it was better this way. To be in her company without the awkward silences as he tried to think of pleasant, neutral things to say while the hot, fierce blood thrummed at his temples. So much easier to face her across a classroom than across this table, to speak the familiar phrases that reinforced their distance than to find novel words to bridge it. Nevertheless, he couldn't help a stab of joy when Neville left and she turned back to him, her eyes warm with approval.

"That was kind."

"Not kindness. Policy."

He envied the spoon slipping between her soft lips as she relished the last of her rose and redcurrant ripple. So close and still untouchable.

"Policy?" she asked.

"One less of your friends opposed to me."

She blushed deeply.

"What should I call you? Are you quite sure we can't be Severus and Hermione?"

"Quite sure."

"Why?" she asked.

"I need the reminder."


	9. Expected and Deserved

EXPECTED AND DESERVED

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.**

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

_Dear Severus,_

_Ministry of Magic, here I come! I'll be working as a Muggle Liaison Officer. I met Draco today, looking less nightmarish than last time, assisting Mr Weasley in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. I hope that works out for him; I know Mr Weasley loathed Draco's father._

_Was Lucius Malfoy ever your friend? Do you miss him? Sorry, I don't mean to be nosy … or maybe I do. It occurs to me that I've just asked whether he's why you became a Death Eater. I've no right, I know. Don't answer if you'd rather not. You've been so open these last months that I've begun taking advantage._

_I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you. You never ask anything. Are you not interested or, horrors, afraid of the answer? Or just too polite to pry?_

_What's the new crop of first years like? I thought about you last night as you were, I suppose, sitting at the Feast and listening to the Sorting Hat – What did it sing this year? – and suddenly I missed your voice so much I pulled out my old Potions homework to re-read your comments. "Less time plagiarising the library and more use of what little brain you possess might be beneficial," was about the politest of the lot. I laughed till I cried and felt a hundred times better._

_I'll be 18 on September 19 and I'm having a birthday dinner with mum and dad. That's when Muggles come of age. They wanted me to have a big party, but I'd rather just have my particular friends. Since Harry and Ron are in Italy and Neville on nightshifts at Villeroi Gardens, that means you. Do say you'll come. Meet us at home at 6 pm and dress Muggle formal._

_Hermione_

_P.S. Do you like ballet?_

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Miss Granger,_

_Congratulations on your expected and deserved success._

_Lucius never had friends, only hangers-on and those he thought he could use. I was one of the latter. My decision to join came shortly after the Shrieking Shack incident. I wanted to hurt Albus, though I thought he cared little. Wrong, in so many ways._

_There's nothing I need to know but that you're well and happy – and that your happiness depends only on yourself. The rest is detail. I'm content to let you choose what to share._

_The first years are a bunch of scared rabbits. Jennet and Muscari stand out as potential leaders. Otherwise, the most striking feature is that, after this year, we'll have no Weasleys for a decade. The Hat is still singing about unity._

_Should I feel hopeful, knowing you've missed me? Perhaps not, when my self is so easily replaced by my keepsakes. Or gratified that you kept any? I suspect, however, that you kept all your old homework, not only mine._

_Albus gave me leave of absence and suggested I could chaperone any seventh years you might care to invite. Rolanda says Ballet's a kind of dance? I don't dance._

_Snape_

**A/N Just a reminder that this story was written before JK changed her mind about Hermione's age and that I've decided to preserve it as is, like a snapshot.**


	10. Components and Processes

COMPONENTS AND PROCESSES

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewer, Bellegeste.**

"For Monday, a scroll on the components and processes of brewing Veritaserum. Pay particular attention to the effect of kinetics – stirring directions, for those dunderheads who've forgotten what it means. Miss Weasley and Mr Creevey, a word with you after class. The rest of you, dismissed."

Ginny and Colin exchanged apprehensive glances from opposite ends of the room. You never knew with Snape, but he hadn't mentioned detentions. They waited by his desk as he scowled and tapped his fingers. As the dungeon door clanged shut behind the stragglers, he spoke without looking up.

"Professor Dumbledore has given permission for you to attend Miss Granger's coming of age party in London next Thursday night, under my chaperonage. Your parents have also given consent."

Are you taking us, sir?" Colin gasped.

"Don't interrupt!" snapped their teacher. "I'm not in the habit of practical jokes so there's no reason to doubt the evidence of your ears. If you were indeed listening, which your abysmal results lead me to doubt." He glowered at the two Gryffindors, who quickly dropped their eyes.

"You'll meet me at the doors to the Great Hall at 5.30 pm." He pulled out two cards and flicked them one each. "Dressed appropriately. You should be able to transfigure something if your wardrobes prove inadequate." He narrowed his black eyes menacingly. "I will expect the three of you, yourselves and Miss Lovegood, to be on time and to behave for the entire duration of the trip in an exemplary fashion. That's all." He waved them away.

"Umm, sir, have you told Luna or did you want us to?" Ginny ventured.

"I'm quite capable of dealing with all such details myself, Miss Weasley. Hurry along or you'll be late for your next class."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," they gabbled and fled.

As soon as he was alone, he pulled out Hermione's last letter.

_Dear Severus,_

_Ballet is a dance that you watch. Only specially trained people dance it, as it requires perfect control of your limbs and posture. It's quite formal and extremely graceful. When I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina and I studied for a few years, but I didn't have strong enough feet – or much aptitude. I tried my hardest, but I just wasn't good enough. It's one of my more painful pre-Hogwarts memories, actually, but I still love to watch a performance. Giselle opens with the Pavlov on Sept 22._

_I'm amazed that Professor Dumbledore allows some students out for my party – How did he know I wanted them? – and still more amazed that you've agreed. Are you sure you don't mind? I know you prefer to keep a certain distance. If it wouldn't ruin things for you, I'd love to have Ginny, Colin and Luna, and I'll write Draco to keep the numbers even. Please let me know and thanks so much._

_Hermione_

His reply had been short.

_Expect four from Hogwarts. Dumbledore always knows and loves meddling. I keep my promises._

_Snape_

**A/N Giselle really did open with the Pavlov on September 22, 1998. **


	11. Destination and Company

DESTINATION AND COMPANY

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers and to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

The reactions from the rest of the Hogwarts staff varied from slightly curious to downright nosy, with a side-serve of pique. If Snape had been Hermione's only guest from Hogwarts, he'd have been able to keep both destination and company to himself, but the addition of three students meant notifying two other Heads of Houses and Filch, the caretaker. Approval for students to be not only exempt from curfew but allowed off-campus anywhere but Hogsmeade, for anything less than a death in the family or a Ministry hearing, was unprecedented.

Snape sank into his favourite chair for the staffroom meeting and closed his eyes.

"Headache?" asked Pomona, handing him a cup of his usual Valerian tea. "Or just an excuse not to answer questions?"

"Three double Slytherin-Gryffindor lessons today. Of course I have a headache." He straightened, eyes still closed, and breathed in the pleasant, soothing steam.

"So one of my Gryffindors invited you to her birthday celebrations?" Minerva probed. "Why you?"

"Why not?" He sipped slowly.

"She didn't invite any other teachers. What made you so deserving?"

"We spoke on the last day of school. I told her what I really thought of her and she replied with what she really thought of me. It was quite instructive." His voice was as smooth as a dark chocolate-coated grenade.

"What do you really think of her? I've never heard you say one good word in seven years."

Snape opened his eyes and raised one eyebrow.

"I was a spy for almost twenty, Minerva. Dissimulation becomes a habit." He lifted his tea to his lips and took a sip.

"That's no answer," Rolanda objected.

He merely smirked in reply.

"What did you tell her you thought of her?" Pomona asked, pouring herself another cup.

"I suppose if I tell you, it will prevent you making something up," he said, when he thought they'd waited long enough. "I said her intelligence and determination had impressed me and I should be pleased to assist her in any future endeavours."

"And she believed you, despite seven years of evidence to the contrary?" Minerva said.

"I have always found Miss Granger to be quite discerning." Filius added, in male solidarity.

Minerva magnificently ignored him.

"And what does she think of you? Or should I ask what she said she thought of you?"

Black eyes held a malicious gleam.

"She said I'd been more important in her life than any other teacher and she'd like to stay in contact."

Minerva jerked upright, slopping some of her tea into the saucer as Pomona jibed, "A girlfriend at last! Even if you are robbing the cradle."

"Dear, dear. Are you so starved for romance that you have to imagine me a vicarious one?" he asked. "If you try to suggest I look like the sort of man a teenager could fall for, I'll have to analyse this tea for any of the one hundred thirty-three common hallucinogenic stimulants."

"I really thought she had more sense," Minerva muttered darkly.

**A/N The number 133 was plucked from thin air. I don't know how many hallucinogenic compounds the wizard world would consider common (or even how many the Muggle world would.)**


	12. Over and Over

OVER AND OVER

**Disclaimer: This is an unauthorised tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.**

**With thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle. This is my last pre-written chapter, so I can't guarantee to update next week.**

When Hermione got up from the table to use the facilities, Ginny went too.

"I suppose this the first time you've eaten in a Muggle restaurant?" Hermione said, as they were washing their hands. It was one of those fancy bathrooms where the taps have no handles and the toilets flush themselves when you stand up. She'd already had to explain about motion sensors to her bewildered friend. "What do you think?"

"Not only the first time in a Muggle restaurant. The first time I've eaten Moroccan. I thought it would be the same as what we ate in Egypt that time we visited Bill."

Hermione turned and put her hands under the hand-dryer. Ginny copied her, but jumped back when she felt the heated air. She grimaced and tried again, more gingerly.

"Weird," she muttered.

Hermione shrugged, rubbing her hands over and over each other. She spread her fingers and waggled them in the warm flow.

"You get used to it," she said and returned to the subject of food. "Isn't it the same? They both eat couscous, don't they?" They weren't _that_ far apart on the map.

"Yes, but the meat is more fruity or spicy or something. Good though. I wonder if I could get Mum to learn to make tagine." Unconsciously, the younger girl licked her lips.

"Or the house elves? You won't be eating your mum's cooking for months yet."

Ginny's hands were still damp. She fetched some paper to dry them. Snape had insisted on confiscating their wands, to her annoyance and Colin's. Luna had merely mumbled something about last month's _Quibbler_ report on wood-chomping Werrinonga infestations in Muggle eateries.

"Hmm. Snape would guess it was us, though, and he never needs much excuse to give detentions. Not sure I want to spend two weeks gutting toads just for a change from beef and two veg."

Hermione pulled out her lipstick and began to outline her mouth. Ginny looked at her sidelong.

"Pity it had to be Snape chaperoning. Couldn't you have asked Dumbledore for a different teacher?"

Hermione blotted her lips together and studied the effect as Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"Or did Malfoy ask you to ask him? That's it, isn't it? You're sweet on Malfoy and you wanted to make him more comfortable by asking his favourite teacher."

Hermione snapped her purse shut rather harder than necessary. It banged open, spilling the contents to the floor.

"I don't think you understand," she said, bending to scrabble them together. "He's not here to chaperone and he's not here for Draco. He was the one I invited first and the rest of you were a bonus." She glanced up, shrugging an apology. "It never occurred to me they'd let you come, you see."

"You mean you wanted him?" Ginny said. "You wanted Snape? Snape, Hermione?"

Hermione coloured.

"Yes, I did!" she snapped. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your comments to yourself. I like him."

"Weird," Ginny muttered again. "Utterly and completely weird."

**A/N In case you'd forgotten and were confused, Hermione wrote Snape in chapter 10 that if he brought her student-friends she'd invite Draco to keep the numbers even.**

**Tagine is a slow-cooked food; Ginny is talking about changing the meal menus, not sneaking down to the kitchens for a top-up.**


	13. Cooking and Chemistry

COOKING AND CHEMISTRY

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

"I've always rather thought of Potions as somewhere between cooking and Chemistry," Mrs Granger said, putting down her fork and turning to Professor Snape, who was seated to her left, "ever since Hermione's first letter about the 'subtle science and exact art of potion-making'."

"She quoted me, did she?" he said, one long-fingered hand toying with his cutlery. Not trusting the students to refrain from discussing non-Muggle topics, he had surreptitiously cast a non-verbal _Muffliato_ on their table as soon as they all sat down.

"At length," Mr Granger said with a half-smile, from his wife's other side.

Snape nodded and let his lips twitch upwards.

"You have an excellent memory, Mrs Granger, but that is no more than I would expect from your daughter's parents."

He took a swift glance around the table out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. Miss Weasley was watching him with narrowed eyes while ostensibly admiring Mr Creevey's camera. Miss Lovegood was blithely asking Draco if he was able to scan his brain for the presence of Wrackspurts when he turned his magical eye backwards. Herm – Miss Granger's cheeks were a little pink and she seemed to be scowling at both girls impartially. He turned back to Mrs Granger as she cocked her head, letting her short, dark curls fall over her forehead.

"I believe it only stuck in my mind because I always rather wondered if the adjectives should have been reversed. I gather this is not the case?" she asked.

"Indeed," he agreed. "The science, or theoretical study, of Potions requires the grasp of fine distinctions, while the art, the practical process of brewing, demands precision and accuracy. Far from being a cross between cooking and Chemistry, it is outside both; the magical science of transmutation through brewing rather than wandwork, more closely related to Alchemy than Chemistry, but encompassing a broader range of component substances."

Mr Granger touched his lips with his napkin and leaned forward, the better to hear.

"I see. Was Alchemy a purely magical science then? Is that why Muggle practitioners were doomed to failure?" his wife asked.

"Failure or Obliviation, I'm afraid. Their memories were wiped and their work destroyed. I understand the Head of the Swiss Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes recognised an opportunity to reduce his staff of Obliviators by twenty percent when Paracelsus went off on his tangent and Chemistry was born. "

From his other side, Hermione entered the conversation.

"I never knew that."

"It is well known in the Potions community, but I imagine it would not have occurred to you to look for it. Binns rarely looks beyond the Goblin Wars in any period of history he teaches."

Colin looked up from fiddling with his camera.

"Could I take some photos now, Professor?" he asked. "You did say when we were all finished eating …You won't even have to move from your seats. If I can just get Ginny and Luna and Malfoy to stand behind you?"

**A/N According to Luna, Wrackspurts enter through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy.**


	14. Develop and See

DEVELOP AND SEE

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

"Here, look, this one's not bad," Colin said, handing over one of the prints he'd made for the Grangers. "He looks almost friendly in this one."

"Who'd have thought Snape could look friendly surrounded by Gryffindors?" Ginny smirked as she picked up the next one. He wouldn't look so mild if he'd noticed her making rabbit's ears behind his head.

"You do know he's insisted on seeing complete sets of prints," Colin grumbled. "If I'd known you were going to do that, I wouldn't have clicked."

"Rubbish, I'm sure you saw what I was doing," she said. "Can't you just hide this one? At least until we graduate, and then we can leave copies in the common room for the next set of Gryffindors to see."

She made as if to rip it up. He snatched it back.

"No, he counted them as I took them. He'd notice." Despite himself, the corners of his mouth would turn up as he pictured the scene. What he wouldn't give to see Snape's face! "Anyway, the house-elves might clear them away. I have a better idea. Dennis can bring them back next year and show everyone on the train. If he destroys the evidence before getting here, Snape won't be able to prove it was him, and he isn't taking Potions so that's all right."

"Hermione would kill us though." Ginny said. "I think she actually likes Snape."

She should have thought of that at the time – Hermione's pecking canaries were pretty lethal – but she'd obeyed the sudden impulse to mock him behind his back, before she could second-guess herself. So they'd just have to think of a way to keep this one out of anyone's hands but their own, at least till next year. Hopefully, Hermione would have come to her senses by then.

"Likes him? As in _likes_ likes?"

Ginny shrugged.

"I shouldn't think so. Unless she was hiding it really well." Hermione had smiled at him a couple of times and he'd raised an eyebrow in return. Surely that didn't mean anything more than friendship. Why would anyone fancy Snape?

"Well, we'll know when I do the magical ones," Colin said, picking up another picture. "I'll watch as they develop and see if they give themselves away when they start moving."

"Why didn't you do them all as moving pictures?" Ginny asked. "Then the photo-me could just hide her hands and not get caught."

"Because they're for Hermione's parents and she asked for a non-magical set they can display," Colin replied. "Besides, what would have been the use of that? Then photo-Snape would just walk out of the photo, wouldn't he, and we wouldn't have anything to show anyone!"

"Hmm, there is that," she said judicially. She wasn't the twins' sister for nothing. The thing about growing up with Fred and George was that you sort of started thinking anything was possible if you had the nerve. And she'd proven often enough that she had the nerve. "So, any ideas?"

**A/N _Muffliato_ is lifted from HBP, but this fic is not HBP-compatible, of course. **

**Draco's missing eye is mentioned in ch 7 of this fic. **

**The line that starts "The thing about growing up with Fred and George…" is adapted from OotP, ch 29. **


	15. Fortune and Family

FORTUNE AND FAMILY

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle. (If you're waiting for a "Dreams" update, sorry, but I've been sick all week and my brain refused to do anything creative.)**

_Dear Severus,_

_Thanks for making my birthday dinner so special by your presence. My parents very much enjoyed your company and I have to say I did too. They've always been a bit dubious about the wizarding world. Not my presence in it, because they knew that was where I belonged, but I know it grieved them because it seemed so anti-scientific. My parents are the most tolerant of people and they brought me up to be tolerant too (and I've tried to be, even in the days when Draco used to call me Mudblood, though I can't say I succeeded with Pansy or Millicent), but the idea of a world of – as they saw it – illogic was completely foreign to them. _

_Now, thanks to your explanations, they see it as not illogic, but merely different logic, that is logic that's based on different first principles, and not anti-scientific but differently scientific. It always was, of course, but I could never get them to see that._

_Thanks also for bringing my friends along. I'm sure it wasn't what you wanted – you've never been inclined to fraternise with students, even when one was me – so I appreciated it all the more. I was a bit worried about Luna sitting next to Draco, though I suppose Ginny might have been worse as she's less forgiving than her dad about his family and his past animosity, but they got on better than I expected. He didn't seem to mind her talking about his lost eye and his lost fortune and even his lost family. I've always avoided those subjects, but he talked and smiled with Luna and sometimes the smile almost looked unforced._

_I love your present. Did you go into the Muggle world for it or mail order it somehow? I know it didn't come from Flourish and Blotts. After working there all summer, I have a pretty good idea what stock they carry and ballet isn't included. Did you charm it yourself? It suddenly occurred to me that, for all your sneers about 'foolish wand-waving', I really know very little about your magical abilities other than Potions and Defence. Are you as brilliant at everything else as you are at those?_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

_PS The first reviews of Giselle are out and they're favourable. Are you up for it? Ballet performances can be horrendously expensive, but there are cheap seats way up in the back._

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Miss Granger,_

_There is no need for thanks. Your parents are pleasant companions and you yourself no less so and I was pleased to see Draco so recovered. I am not unfamiliar with the Muggle world, though I rarely shop there. In this case, it seemed necessary. The charmwork was quite easy and I admit to skill at 'foolish wand-waving'. I doubt I should find ballet a congenial entertainment, but the delight of your company outweighs other considerations. You must know that my evenings are not my own, so shall we say next month?_

_Snape_


	16. Door and Jaw

DOOR AND JAW

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

Hermione looked up from her files as her office door swung open, and her jaw dropped.

"Fred? George? What are you doing here? Don't say you've gone and got into trouble in the Muggle world somehow?"

Two solid ginger-haired wizards in eye-bursting scarlet dragonhide suits bounced in with as much energy as their own Wildfire Whizzbangs. It was easy to tell them apart now. George was the slightly taller, thinner one with the scar running from his left eyebrow to his hair. Even Fred hadn't thought the advantages of non-identifiability to be worth permanently self-inflicting a matching one.

"We're grieved, Hermione," said Fred.

"Grievously disappointed," added George. "You wrong us –"

"You seriously wrong us."

"Cut to the heart –"

"Seared to the bone –"

Hermione knew enough to interrupt them at this point.

"You look seared to the bone in those awful suits," she said frankly. "Couldn't you have stuck to Common Welsh Greens or even Hebridean Blacks? Chinese Fireball scarlet does nothing for your complexions, however House-proud it makes you look."

Her poky little office could barely squeeze in two normal visitors, let alone a pair as larger than life as the twins. They perched themselves on opposite ends of her desk so she couldn't look at both of them simultaneously. She leaned back in her chair, resting her head against the wall behind her, and gave it her best shot anyway.

"Ah, Houses," Fred exclaimed. "That's the whole –"

"Crux of the matter, isn't it, Fred?"

"It is indeed, George," said his brother.

Hermione sighed. What could they possibly want with a Muggle Liaison Officer if they hadn't been up to mischief with Muggles?

"Did you want something or is this just a passing stop on your way to the Ludicrous Patents Office?" she asked.

"It's tragic, isn't it, Fred?" George asked his twin.

"It is indeed, George. Ah, who'd have thought it would ever come to this in her innocent days of running around after curfew with Harry and Ron?"

"Though she always was a little too fond of Percy the prat," George reminded him.

"A bagatelle," said Fred airily. "A mere matter of mistaken ideas or mistaken identity, perhaps. But then she became a Prefect –"

George shook his head sadly.

"And the rot set in."

"Pity. Before we knew it, she was lording it over us –"

"Banning our experiments –"

"Threatening to write to Mum –"

"But we thought there was still hope." George let out a heavy sigh, which was echoed by his brother.

"And now, the final indignity –"

"Friends with a teacher!"

"If it is just friends," Fred chimed in, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "and not something more sinister."

Hermione blushed.

"I'm going to kill Ginny," she muttered.

"You mean –"

"It's true then? You're dating the bat of the dungeons?"

"I'm not dating him," she said. "We're just friends, that's all."

"Friends, is it?" George asked with another waggle.

Fred waggled back.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

**A/N Common Welsh Green, Hebridean Black and Chinese Fireball are types of dragon.**

**Hermione's job as a Muggle Liaison Officer is mentioned in ch 9 of this fic.**


	17. Happiness and I

HAPPINESS AND I

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle. I am posting this on schedule, despite the probability that many readers will be too busy watching and discussing the movie to read fanfiction.**

_Dear Severus,_

_I think Ginny must have written to the entire world – well, the entire Weasley family, anyway – about our friendship, because I've received visits from every Weasley in England! First the twins, then Mr Weasley, then Mrs, and even Percy popped in today to 'counsel' me about it. I told him he'd made such a mess of his own personal life that he'd better not try to guide anyone else's. It wasn't very politic, as he seems to be rising higher and higher in the Ministry, but did he really think I was going to follow the example of someone who's still at odds with most of his family? (If Ginny hadn't written him, I'd have said all.)_

_The one Weasley I thought I'd hear from – at the top of his voice, most likely, and over a bad international Floo connection – hasn't been in touch. Neither has Harry. I can only hope their silence is from being too busy or exhausted to write. I suppose I should be glad not to have got Howlers from them, but in a way I'd have felt better about it. I could have just sent Howlers back, telling them that my friendships with other people were none of their business and after a few rounds of explosive mail, we'd all probably have got it out of our systems and they'd have accepted they can't tell me what to do. But I can't help feeling uneasy about it. There have been times when Ron hasn't talked to me for weeks at a time, even months, and usually Harry just stayed out of the crossfire._

_Hermione_

_PS Tuesday week or Sunday fortnight for Giselle?_

Professor Snape read the letter twice through, a cold weight in his chest. Had she really thought her friends' first fury so likely to dissipate in the repetition? Optimistic child! But he could not quarrel with her disposition to hope. Had she been less optimistic, she'd never have risked losing her old friendships for the sake of the uncertain new. For her sake, he should write her permission to choose the former, say he was willing to be given up. But that would be a lie.

_Miss Granger,_

_I said at the outset that I believed simultaneous friendships with both myself and Potter to be incompatible and I mentally included the youngest male Weasley in that presumption. For your sake, I am willing to try to tolerate them if they will try to tolerate me. I cannot offer more and will own myself surprised if they find themselves ready to offer as much. _

_You may be facing a fork in the path here. In life, there are choices to be made. Walking down one path means ignoring the claims of the other. You are the best judge of which path will bring you happiness and I will abide by your decision with no reproaches or blame._

_Snape_

_PS If you still wish it, Sunday will be a better evening for me._


	18. You and Harry

YOU AND HARRY

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers to OotP, not HBP-compatible. Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.**

_Dear Severus, _

_I must be the biggest idiot alive not to realise how you might take that. I'm sorry for letting you think our friendship might be affected by the boys' tantrums. My only excuse is that I've fallen into the habit of telling you whatever's on my mind and you always seem to understand. In case it wasn't clear, I'll say it again: my friendship with you is none of their business. _

_We're not at school now. Our lives move in wider circles and our friendships stretch over longer distances. There is ample space in my life for all of you. I won't let them tell me I can't be friends with you and them, any more than I was willing to let you tell me I couldn't be friends with them and you. I can. I am. And I will be, whether my love and caring are reciprocated or not. _

_I have no choosing to do. They may have some perhaps. If they choose wrong, I'll be sad about it, but never sorry, because anyone who thinks friendship gives him the right to tell me who else I can care about doesn't understand friendship at all. _

_That said, I'm happier than I can say that you chose as you did. I can just vaguely guess at how much it must have cost you to offer that, when I know how you feel about Potters. I suppose if I'd suffered more at Draco's hands than the occasional sneer or "Mudblood!" or misplaced hex I might feel the same way about Malfoys. _

_Ginny almost does, because of that cursed diary Draco's dad slipped in her schoolbooks in her first year, but at least she knows Draco's sorry about it. _

_Every time I think about you and Harry, I remember him calling you "pathetic" in the Shack for resenting an attempt on your life. Or, further back, hating you as much after learning you saved his life as before. However much I've blamed you for hating him on sight, I understand why you haven't let it go. I wish you could, for your sake as much as mine, because my parents always taught me that giving in to resentment is like holding a hot potato. The only way not to get burnt is to drop it. _

_Please, Severus, drop the potato. Think how much more your hands could be doing, if they weren't clenched around it. _

_Hermione _

If any student noticed Professor Snape's hand touching his pocket during classes, at least they could not guess what was in it. He wouldn't touch the letter itself – they might hear it rustle – but he needed to remind himself it was real. If anyone saw the curving of his lips as he did so, at least they had the sense not to comment in his hearing. She cared about him; she'd said so. She was his, if only as a friend. And if anyone imagined he could be satisfied with that, they'd be wrong.


	19. King and Vineyard

KING AND VINEYARD

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory.**

**Sorry for the long delay while I concentrated on finishing "Dreams". The story till now: ****After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters and occasional meetings. Her last letter to date has both assured him of her loyalty and begged him, for both their sakes, to "drop the (hot) potato" of anti-Potter resentment, and to "Think how much more (his) hands could be doing, if they weren't clenched around it..."**

Euphoria waned. Her letter required a speedy response, but to describe his idea of what "more" his "hands could be doing" would only embarrass her. There was another truth. Should he tell her?

_Miss Granger_, he began,

_Since you ask it, I will try, but I don't know how to "drop the potato" when it's lodged in my gullet and my own flesh grows around it. Can I survive ripping out my throat?_

_I can't expect you to understand without explanation. So be it, then. You shall be my first – my only – confidante._

He paused several minutes.

_I read a Muggle story once, about a king who desired a poor man's vineyard and killed him for it. I was the poor man (Naboth, I think he was called), your Potter's father the cruel king, and Lily Evans my vineyard. She was my friend before we came to Hogwarts, but we were Sorted apart. Idolised by three houses, Potter quickly made sure they shunned me, but it wasn't enough; he wanted Lily too. _

_I suppose she wearied of fighting the tide. When he contrived to appear the hero in the Shrieking Shack, she began to turn from me. She wouldn't believe he had engineered the situation nor that he was only saving his own skin. She thought I should be grateful. _

_How could I be? _

_She claimed still to loathe him, but when he subsequently attacked me in front of her, I realised she only had eyes for him. Foolishly, angrily, I swore at her, and she cut me off forever. _

_("Have you killed and also taken possession?" asked the prophet in the story. Where was a prophet to ask for me?)_

_They married and I joined the Death Eaters, as she'd predicted. Then I heard Sybil's accursed prophecy and passed it on, never dreaming it meant that. It meant Lily. I tried everything to save her, begged the Dark Lord, went to Dumbledore, became a spy… But Potter – convinced he knew best, as usual – ruined all. _

_She died, and I remained alive to protect her son through the war. That's done. I exist now only from habit and know no brightness but you._

The white heat passed and he stopped. He had never previously put it into words, and though the parchment was blotted and scratched where his Never-Fail Quill had pressed too heavily into it, he was amazed how fluently it had come pouring out. Almost as if it had waited to be written, in just these words.

But it would not do. As Potter's friend and his own, she would grieve doubly. He pulled out a fresh parchment, flexed his aching fingers and began anew.

_I will try to "drop the potato", but it is lodged in my gullet, with my own flesh growing around it, and I must tear out my throat to reach it. I am no phoenix, to die and live again, yet I find great healing in your friendship._

_S _

No, still wrong.

**A/N Naboth's vineyard is a Bible story (1 Kings). After King Ahab's wife Jezebel had organised Naboth's murder on Ahab's behalf, the prophet Elisha relayed Divine judgement: "Have you killed and also taken possession? In the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth shall dogs lick your blood..."**

**This account is, of course, Snape's view of James Potter and, naturally, not impartial, but almost pure book canon for all that. (The idea that James's bullying was partly inspired by wanting Lily is only interview canon.) **


	20. Bite and Swallow

BITE AND SWALLOW

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory.**

It was silly to expect an immediate response to her last letter. She had asked him something so personal, so difficult, that it was only natural he take some time to consider his answer. Yet she fretted.

How had she dared ask him that? What right did she have? She was not his sister, his lover, his wife, and their friendship was too new to be so recklessly tested; so soon, too, after she had made him question its durability. She was an idiot.

The canteen was crowded. She paid for her cheese and lettuce roll and lukewarm coffee and sat down absently at a table with one occupant before realising it was Draco. He was grimly picking bits of onion out of his spaghetti bolognaise and dropping them on the side of his plate, but he glanced up when she sat down

"Oh. Hi," he said.

"Hi. Why order it if you don't like it?"

He shrugged. "Least bad option, I suppose. Everything else is either too dry – like your sandwich – or too greasy." He shrugged again. "I'll live."

"You could bring your own," she suggested dubiously.

"Why don't you?"

"Too much of a rush in the morning. Besides the rolls aren't bad." She grimaced. "Well, not that bad," she said. "On good days. When the lettuce isn't wilted." She opened her roll to check if it this was a good day. It wasn't.

"Didn't know you liked Severus," he said, twirling a few strands on his fork and looking at them critically. "When did that start?"

"After I stopped being his student." She took a small bite and a swallow of coffee. "Not that I ever disliked him, exactly. But you know how he is about Gryffindors. He wouldn't give me the time of day before."

"Hmm." He chewed and swallowed and twirled more spaghetti.

"You've known him a long time, haven't you?"

"Always."

"What was he like?" she asked, leaning forward.

His eyes shuttered. "Mostly – uncomfortable."

"You mean, uneasy? Not fitting in?"

"No, though I daresay he felt it." He twirled and twirled his spaghetti. "I meant like the chairs in his office. You know they won't break under you, but there's always a knob or an edge sticking into your back, however much you wriggle."

"I always thought you liked him."

He snorted. "As if that mattered. He's family. All that's left."

"But you have other family. Your Aunt Andromeda, your cousin –"

"No, Hermione. They're not family, they're only relatives. Severus is family. The only person in the world who'd lose a wink of sleep if I disappeared and was never seen again."

She opened her mouth to deny the implication and closed it again. His parents had died trying to protect him and his school friends had scorned him for changing sides. Who else was there?

"I would, I think. Lose a few winks, anyway."

He forced a smile. "That's because you're you, not because I'm me," he said. "But thank you for trying."


	21. Cutting and Joining

CUTTING AND JOINING

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory.**

Ginny looked up as the common room door opened and pulled Colin aside almost before he came in. "Was it all right? Did he notice anything?"

Forging a new photo to replace the one they didn't want Snape to see had been as simple as duplicating two other negatives, cutting them apart in the same place, and joining one pair of opposite halves with a quick Reparo.

"Not here," he muttered, glancing around the crowded noisy room. "Let's walk."

"Tell me again what Hermione said about liking Snape," he said, when they'd escaped the scrutiny of portraits and people alike. It was a raw breezy day, and Ginny shivered.

"Why? What did he do?"

"Nothing unusual. Looked, scowled, made sarky comments. Didn't catch us out, though. Lucky he was looking at the photos and not my face." His lips pursed. "He didn't do or say anything odd, not anything, but I think he's completely batty about her."

Ginny laughed. "Batty, full stop. But something must have happened. Try to think. What did he do?"

"I can't believe we didn't get it at the time." He thrust his hands deeper in his pockets. "He _came_, Ginny. She invited him to a party and he _came_. And he brought us. If that's not suspicious behaviour, I don't know what is. He hates Gryffindors and he willingly spent three hours in our company."

"Malfoy was there."

"If he wanted to spend time with Malfoy, he didn't need Hermione's party to do it. Tell me what she told you."

"Not much. Just that she liked him and she invited him first. Before us, I mean." She grimaced. "She must have invited Ron and Harry first, of course, but they can't leave Italy till their Exchange program finishes. Imagine if they'd been there!"

"I bet he'd have got worse than rabbit's ears from them," Colin said, his face lighting up with wistful glee. "Imagine the pictures I could have got."

"Imagine spending the rest of the year in detention disembowelling newts," Ginny reminded him.

"It'd be worth it though." Colin's grin faded. "Only Hermione'd kill us. You know she would."

Ginny shuddered. "She can't fancy him. He's so old and he's such a git and – and he doesn't wash his hair."

"And he's a Slytherin and he used to be a Death Eater and he's the nastiest teacher we have, yeah, I know. But does she care about any of that? Now, I mean? To tell you the truth, I can't imagine why she'd have invited him to meet her parents if she didn't fancy him. I mean, they can't have been friends for more than, what? Not even three months. It's just one of those things, you know? Who you fancy never makes sense to anyone else."

"We can't let her. He's horrible." Ginny stopped, turning her face to the wind. Colin stopped too.

"What can you do? She'd never listen."

"I don't know," she said. "But I'll think of something. I always do."

**A/N "Sarky" is a slang abbreviation of sarcastic. **


	22. Begged and Bound

BEGGED AND BOUND

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory.**

He finished the letter, nodded, and signed. This one felt right.

_Drop the potato? Hermione, I am the potato, for I hardly know where it ends and I begin. Since we first met, aged eleven, my life has been deformed around James Potter, as ivy twines around a stake. Remove him and I don't know what's left that's me._

_I will not burden the son's friend with the father's deeds, still less with the impossible task of defending he and I to each other. Suffice to say that, if I am broken, as you once informed me, it was James Potter that, with relentless malice, broke me, and that I subsequently, inadvertently, caused his death._

_Who did whom the greater injury is not for me to say. I can say only that, for all I hated him and still despise his memory, I did not then wish him dead. How could I, when his death meant hers?_

_I was a Death Eater. You know that, and you can imagine what it entailed, perhaps better than I did when I joined. When I realised the import of my actions, I begged her life from one master and bound myself to the other in desperate attempt to save her. You know that I could not. It is a bitter, bitter regret. _

_Do not repent of your request. The stab of remembering has been a cleansing pain. Having no confidant at once willing to hear and trusted to know, I have not, until now, tried to put my past miseries into words. After seventeen separate attempts to decide what to tell you, I believe I see with clearer vision now. Of one thing at least, I have blamed both him and myself unjustly. Although I had known and loved her since we were nine, our friendship would never have lasted, was already dying before the terrible day that I insulted her and so lost her forever. Had he harassed me less, her affections would have turned to him all the sooner, I believe. She was ever too fine for me._

_Your concern is more precious to me than I have words to tell. _

_S_

_... ... ..._

_I am the potato_, Hermione read and her lips twitched. She had had a Mr Potato Head doll once, with interchangeable eyes and mouths, ears, noses and moustache. Just so had they dressed their stern professor in their youthful imaginings, pinning incongruous features on his unresponsive face. She swallowed hard. He had been a toy for others for too long.

_If I am broken … I begged her life…_

_I was a Death Eater … bitter, bitter regret …_

_Having no confidant… She was ever too fine…_

Again and again she read the letter, sometimes with tears running down her cheeks, sometimes with fire burning in her breastbone. Finally, she set it down, only to snatch it up again to see if her eyes had not deceived her. They had not.

"Hermione," she said wonderingly. "He called me Hermione."


	23. Cleansing and Clarity

CLEANSING AND CLARITY

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH, but may contain spoilers. (This chapter does.) Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory.**

_Dear Severus,_

_I don't know what to say. If I brought you cleansing and clarity, I'm glad, but I never meant to cause you pain. I'm sorry. I should have thought. We had to sort through every little thing when we cleaned Grimmauld Place for the Order. It stands to reason you'd have to do the same with memories._

_I didn't mean to pry. I suppose I imagined you'd confided in someone you've known better and longer than me. Professor Dumbledore or another colleague. Or someone I've never met; I hardly think I know all your acquaintances._

_There are a couple of things I'm confused about. Don't tell me unless you want to. I know it's not my business, and you said I'm better off not knowing, but I'm trying to reconcile "relentless malice" with saving your life over Sirius's prank, and I just can't. You must have reasons for thinking he generally acted maliciously, but surely that, at least, was not malicious._

_Also, you told me once that you became a Death Eater because you wanted to hurt Professor Dumbledore. If so much of your life revolved around Harry's parents, I don't understand where the headmaster came into it._

_Hermione_

* * *

_Confide in Dumbledore? That was never an option. He knew, always, enough to be sure of my loyalties, but he has never encouraged my confidences, nor believed me in any matter involving Potter's gang. You've seen that for yourself. _

_My proof of Potter's malice is from his own mouth. He told Lily once – _after_ Black had almost fed me to their pet werewolf – that he harassed me for the fact that I existed._

_Having long suspected Lupin's condition, I was disturbed to spot his friends sneaking out one full moon night. I knew they could have no legitimate reason to visit him. Human company inflames rather than comforts a werewolf; he must attack either them or, if restrained (as seemed likely), himself. After Lily refused point-blank to listen to my warnings, it was easy for Black to goad me into seeing for myself. _

_They set me up neatly. You call it "Sirius's prank", but Potter and Black always hunted together. Perhaps Black added the touch of loosing the werewolf into the tunnel before sending me down it, forcing Potter to "save" me. (Really to save them; had I died, an investigation must have revealed their crimes.) _

_There was no investigation. Dumbledore, the reputedly omniscient defeater-of-Grindelwald and Wizengamot Head, believed them, not me. People always did, but he should have known better. He freed them of my surveillance; to do what, I only learned years later when I overheard Lupin's reminiscences. I was discredited, and Potter exalted as hero and, eventually, Head Boy._

_I was the more resentful of Dumbledore for having previously admired him. I'd foolishly dreamed that one day he'd turn from state affairs to Hogwarts, and surely mete out judgement and justice. It was his job, after all. Vain hopes, indeed._

_I'll see you on Sunday._

_S_

**_A/N:_ This chapter reflects my new understanding of the werewolf incident, after taking into account what we learned in DH:  
****1) that Snape entered the tunnel already believing that Lupin was a werewolf (but presumably assuming he was securely restrained),  
****2) that he'd told Lily but been ignored,  
3) that the werewolf trick came before the underpants incident,  
4) that Dumbledore's PS/SS comments were both deliberately misleading and based on ignorance of relevant facts, such as the Marauders' criminal activities. **

**Based on Sirius's comment, "It served him right! Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ...", I've postulated that Snape had seen Lupin's friends sneak around at full moon at least once before Sirius decided it would be "amusing" to tell him how to get in the tunnel. Also, i****n the absence of evidence for any subsequent mistrust of Sirius or split amongst the Marauders, I now interpret "your father ... heard what Sirius had done..." (PoA, ch 18) as James having received a confederate's report rather than a confession. Snape was right; it _was _James's trick.**


	24. Mind and Heart

MIND AND HEART

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH, but may contain spoilers. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory.**

_Dear Severus,_

_I understand better now. It must have really hurt to lose your friend to your enemy because you were trying to protect her from him. _

_But something doesn't fit. Please don't misunderstand, I'm not presuming to imagine I understand your life better than you do. All I know is that sometimes people say things they don't mean or that they're sorry about later, and I think perhaps neither of us is especially good at seeing into other people's hearts, especially people we dislike. (At least, I know you never saw into Harry's.) _

_Maybe I just want to believe that Harry had two good relatives (because the Dursleys were unbelievably nasty), but are you sure Harry's dad didn't care even a bit about your life? You say your friend loved him. Could she have been so shallow, or so gullible, as to love someone that petty? Can you believe that of her mind and heart?_

_For myself, I remember how Draco used to revel in the Basilisk's attacks all through second year and gleefully tell me "You're next, Mudblood!" He was still gloating about "Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first!" after Cedric died, and I believe he really meant it too. He hated us then. But when it came to the point last year, he tried to protect us. I never would have expected that._

_Hermione_

_PS I'm looking forward to Sunday too. Maybe we could meet for dinner?_

_PPS Did I understand your letter right? You thought Professor Lupin's friends might be making him hurt himself for fun and he might be as much their victim as you were? You were trying to protect_ _him?_

_Ouch. It must have been a shock, after keeping his secret all that time, to hear him tell us they were wonderful friends who made him happier than he'd ever been. Is that why you were so angry that night? (But still, isn't calling him "their pet werewolf" a bit much?) _

* * *

_I believe I know more of both werewolves in general and Lupin in particular than you. I call him their pet werewolf because so they treated him and so he reacted. I had wondered sometimes if they were holding his secret over him, or if the consciousness alone was what caused him to collude in what he knew was wrong. He made a very unfit prefect._

_He revealed more than the wilful complicity of his youth on the night he almost bit you. It was as much his selfish negligence of having, all year, concealed guilty knowledge of Black's possible means of ingress, as his reckless endangerment of you three, that compelled me to end my silence. _

_I would never so traduce Lily as to suppose her gullible or shallow. She was deceived, but I cannot blame her. Why should she be more discerning than the headmaster? Love is blind, they say._

_I'm afraid I can't get away very early. I'll meet you outside the theatre at 7.15. Perhaps we could dine afterwards._

_S_

**A/N While writing the previous chapter, it occurred to me that for Lupin's secret to have lasted past his OWLs year, Snape must have told no one but Lily. That suggests he was keeping the secret even before "he was forbidden to tell anyone by Dumbledore". This chapter is my attempt to understand why.**

**"He tried to protect us" refers to Draco having changed sides in this story, but it could also apply to the one or two occasions in DH where Draco acted equivocally, appearing to shield the trio from others.**


	25. Flinch and Sigh

FLINCH AND SIGH

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory. Sorry for the long delay, caused firstly by RL then by performance anxiety.**

**The story till now: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters (which most recently have concerned his past dealings with Harry's parents) and occasional meetings. Tonight, they meet at the ballet… **

She couldn't quite decide at first what was different about him. She'd seen him smile before. He was no taller; he walked no straighter.

"Shall we go in?" he said, and oh, there it was in the tilt of his chin, in the softening of his eyes. Whatever it was.

She gulped. "Perhaps you'd better read this first," she said, offering him the programme. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I mean, I did know what the ballet was about; it was you I didn't know about when I suggested coming. And I didn't think about what it meant, until I bought this."

He cast a glance over the synopsis. She watched the narrowing of his eyes as he reached "..._and Loys, who is in reality Count Albrecht, Princess Bathilde's fiance._ _Jealous and suspicious of his favoured rival, Hilarion resolves to sneak into his cottage and look for evidence against him,"_ and the whitening of his knuckles as he turned the page to find Hilarion in the second act _"grieving the fatal revelation that had killed the girl he loved."_ Her hands clenched too. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down at the realisation that Giselle would indeed become a Wili, _"restless spirits forced by their evil queen, Myrta, to dance to death any man they encounter."_ He blinked and swallowed and she knew he'd just read _"to lay lilies on her grave"._ Her hand rose uselessly and fell.

"We could go somewhere else," she suggested. "Dinner, maybe, or a movie."

He read to the end. Hilarion was dead, but Giselle had saved her betrayer by dancing with him herself, holding off the other Wilis until the clock struck four, the hour of dawn, and she relinquished him into his fiancee's hands.

He looked up, his face no paler and his eyes no darker than usual. It was an almost convincing semblance of calm. She shivered.

"And waste your parents' birthday present to you? No. We will go in, er M-"

"Call me Hermione," she said desolately. "You called me that in that one letter, and you've been avoiding calling me anything ever since." She waited two beats. "Please. We are friends, aren't we? I think we're past the time that standing on ceremony made any sense."

His lips curved obediently. "Hermione," he agreed.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

It helped that the Pavlov's Giselle was very dark, Hilarion blond as any Malfoy, and Albrecht sleek and sandy-haired. Glancing over at Severus, Hermione found him watching her as often as the stage. But it couldn't last. By the time Giselle's heart was won, he sat rigid, his eyes fixed on the dancers, his throat working. It was her turn to forget the performance they had come to see.

She couldn't help herself. Her hand snaked out and one finger lightly stroked the back of his tight-clenched hand. He flinched and sighed and their eyes met for a long moment, hers supplicating, his blind from long-seeing. Then his hand turned over and closed around hers.

**A/N The dancers are fictional. ****As productions vary markedly, I wrote a synopsis, which I've excerpted in the chapter:**

**_Act 1  
It is a Rhineland village in the grape-picking season. Giselle, who has a weak heart but loves dancing, has two suitors, Hilarion the hunter and Loys, who is in reality Count Albrecht, Princess Bathilde's fiance. Jealous and suspicious of his favoured rival, Hilarion resolves to sneak into his cottage and look for evidence against him._**

**_Giselle's mother fears Giselle will become a Wili. They are maidens who died betrayed by their lovers; restless spirits forced by their evil queen, Myrta, to dance to death any man they encounter._**

**_The villagers entertain the prince's hunting-party, who have stopped for refreshments. On hearing that Giselle is newly engaged to Loys, Bathilde presents her with a gold necklace._**

**_After they leave, Giselle is crowned Queen of the Wine Festival, but Hilarion returns, brandishing Albrecht's sword and hunting horn as evidence. He calls back the hunting party and Giselle, on discovering her lover's duplicity, loses her mind. Tearing off Bathilde's gift, she seizes the sword to kill herself, and dies. _**

**_Act 2  
It is a clearing in the forest near Giselle's grave. Myrta summons forth the Wilis, and Hilarion, who has stayed too long grieving the fatal revelation that killed the girl he loved, is their first victim. _**

**_Giselle's spirit emerges to join the Wilis. Albrecht arrives, bearing lilies to lay on her grave in token of his love and remorse. Giselle forgives him, but Myrta orders his death. Giselle protects him by dancing with him herself until the clock strikes four to mark the dawn. Bathilde arrives and Giselle relinquishes him into her arms._**


	26. Acquaintance and WellWishing

ACQUAINTANCE AND WELL-WISHING

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory. ****This chapter assumes knowledge of the story of Giselle. A synopsis is in chapter 25.**

Severus drew a long breath as Albrecht prostrated himself by Giselle's body and the curtain fell, rose and fell again, on the first act. His gaze fell on Hermione's hand, still locked in his, and he released it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I hope it hasn't gone numb."

_Like your heart, for so many years?_

"I'm fine," she lied, burying her hand in the folds of her wide skirt to surreptitiously work out the stabs of returning feeling. Pain was healthy; it meant being alive.

Around them people were getting up to stretch their legs, chattering about Livinova's Mad Dance and Borinski's athleticism, but Hermione and Severus sat as in a bubble of silence.

"There was nothing wrong with Lily's heart," he said haltingly, turning the programme over in his hands. "She had no choice. She saw where I was going before I knew it myself."

Her teeth hurt from clenching. "She was your first friend."

"My only friend. Until you."

Hermione stared. "But surely – Draco told me you're his family."

"Through long acquaintance and well-wishing." He shrugged. "I'm fond of Draco, but we're not confidants. Our deepest desires remain secrets from each other."

He had a very narrow definition of friend. Harry and Ron hadn't needed to know her deepest desires to be best friends for seven years. Or was it just that they hadn't been interested enough to ask? She couldn't think about that now.

"And Lily was," she said instead.

He studied the seats in front. "In those days, my deepest desires were the magical world and her beside me."

* * *

Afterwards, they wedged themselves in the corner table of the little Indian eatery in the next street.

Severus stared at his chicken tikka. "She didn't care that he deceived her. Caused her death. She forgave him."

"Yes." She didn't know what else to say. In his real life too, the maiden had forgiven the deceiver and left the old friend to flounder. "Maybe she would have saved Hilarion too, if she'd had the chance," she suggested, without conviction.

He shook his head. "When Albrecht comes, Hilarion is forgotten."

"I don't think of you as either," she said, stirring her curried dahl, knowing he blamed himself as both. "It's Giselle herself that reminds me of you."

His mouth twisted. "You mean because I was foolish enough to trust the wrong people or because my choices enslaved me to a monster?"

"Because she forgives who wronged her, and so do you."

He let his hair fall forward to cover his face. "Don't romanticise me. I still _hate_."

"I did sit in your classroom for seven years. I think I noticed that myself," she told him. "But when it came to the crunch, when you had to choose between harming or saving – Well, I saw that too. Giselle didn't try any harder than you to save who wronged you." _She'd danced off death for a night; he'd done so for almost two decades._

"Perhaps not," he said, "But she succeeded."

**A/N As ffnet prohibits writing about real people, I plucked names out of thin air for the principal dancers, Alia Livinova and Rael Borinski, so I could mention them as background colour. I doubt they'll come up again, but I haven't finished writing yet, so I can't be sure.**


	27. Open and Closed

OPEN AND CLOSED

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory. Sorry for the long delay, caused firstly by RL then by performance anxiety.**

**The story till now: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters and occasional meetings, most recently at the ballet. But his past keeps butting in… **

She set down the kettle and stared into her steaming cup, still brooding over the previous night. How could he make her want at once to hug him into happiness and to run away screaming? He was so broken. But she'd always known that. Always.

The Floo roared. She turned, gasped and flung herself forward. There were two faces in the fire.

"About time!" She tried to scowl, but her mouth would curve upwards. "Why haven't you written?"

Ron grinned. "Haven't had time to scratch ourselves. It's great!"

"They barely noticed our piddling little war here," Harry said with relish. "Italians couldn't give a rat's who killed Voldemort."

"So you're not sorry you went?" Scrimgeour was still fuming that they'd preferred three years Auror training overseas to the compressed one-year course he'd offered "the war heroes".

Ron snorted. "It was just sense, wasn't it? We need to know what we're doing. Can't just keep scraping through on luck and your brains."

"You have brains, too."

"Yeah, but we haven't always used them. Can't take your eyes off the Quaffle when the game gets slow," he quoted sagely.

She blinked. "When did you two grow up?"

"When you weren't looking," Harry said.

"Nah, we're still breaking rules. Not supposed to Floo anyone but family."

"Not even girlfriends?"

"Especially not girlfriends," Harry said.

"But Mandy –"

"Dumped me. But then I met Sonia." His eyes lit.

"Sonia?"

"Listen," Ron said. "What's with Ginny? She gone daft or what? Got this bee in her bonnet about you and Snape. Says you fancy him. And now she's cooked up a photo –"

"Photo?"

"From your birthday. But it must be fake, right? Because you wouldn't date Snape." His voice dropped and slowed for emphasis. "Not without telling us."

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it to gulp. She hadn't thought of writing. It had been their turn. She studied the cracked bottom tile of the fireplace.

"Why _didn't _you write?" Harry asked gently. "Didn't he let you? Did he tell you to dump us?"

"No! Nothing like that! It just didn't occur to me. I knew Ginny told you; she told everyone. And I've been waiting for you to –" Her lips stretched in a forced smile. "To send me Howlers, actually."

Ron scowled. "You're making the biggest mistake of your life. But it _is _your life. We can't stop you."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I see why you'd want to. He's brave and clever and, yes, I finally understand that he's one of the good guys. But he's still bitter and twisted inside. He doesn't need a – a – He needs a Healer. Not you. He's beyond your mending."

Ron agreed. "We get it, we do. You like sorting people out. That's why you followed us around before we were even friends and why you thumbed your nose at him all those times in class to help Neville. But you can't sort him out. You'll only break your heart if you try."


	28. Broken and Unready

BROKEN AND UNREADY

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Spoilers, post-seventh year fic, begun after OotP and not compatible with HBP or DH. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory.**

**Last chapter:**** "We get it, we do. You like sorting people out. That's why you followed us around before we were even friends and why you thumbed your nose at him all those times in class to help Neville. But you can't sort him out. You'll only break your heart if you try."**

Long after they'd gone, she was still staring into the fire. At last, she got up, poured away her cold tea and went to bed. She should write to Severus, tell him the boys wouldn't be a problem. But then she'd have to tell him what they'd said, and worse, how it made her feel.

She'd told him she wanted his friendship. She'd promised to stand by him. She'd confidently declared that nothing the boys could say would deter her. She didn't break promises. She wouldn't. Her teeth clenched.

He was so broken. And she was so unready.

* * *

Two days later, she stared at Percy as he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose and leaned forward. "Well?" he said.

"Why would you want me in your department and not someone more experienced?"

"I want a Muggle-born perspective. And I know you." His eyes slid past hers. "Er, your quality of work and your ethos."

She looked him over and decided on bluntness. "Or my friendship with your family?"

He took off his glasses to polish them.

"I fail to see why you'd imagine your social relationships have any relevance to this career opportunity." His mouth hardened. "Except insofar as Ron's absence can only be conducive to your application and focus. But my subordinates' private lives are hardly my concern." He put his glasses on and picked up a sheaf of papers, riffling through them slowly, his eyes elsewhere. "And mine is not theirs. Do you want the job or not?"

"I saw Ron last night," she said coldly. "He's grown up, you know."

"It was certainly well past time he did so. If rather surprising, given the company he keeps."

"Just apologise," she urged. "Sink your stubborn pride and get it over with. Wouldn't it be worth it?"

"And then what?' he said bitterly. "Apologise for living?"

* * *

Ginny dragged Colin out of the Hall to show him Hermione's letter.

"I told you she wouldn't thank you for meddling," he said.

"Us. You helped."

He ran a finger inside the neckline of his robes. "Only because you badgered me. Don't you think you should stop now? Before she fills the next one with Bubotuber Pus?"

Ginny stared at the letter long enough to make him twitchy.

"We're going to be late," he said. "And it's Potions next. The last thing we want is for him to find out. Come _on_!" He started to walk, then stopped short. "Criminy! Do you think she told him?"

Ginny smiled tightly, crumpling the letter and shoving it in her pocket. "She didn't send a Howler."

"She will next time."

"She didn't send a Howler because she hasn't told him. She doesn't want him to know." She chewed on her lip a while as they strode. "Or she doesn't want everyone else to." Her eyes lit and her lips curved.

"Ginny," Colin said uneasily, "haven't you done enough?"

"She's my friend. I'd do anything for her."

"Except butt out," he muttered.

Ginny scowled.


	29. Paper and Pause

PAPER AND PAUSE

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.**

**Thanks to my reviewers and to my previewers, Cecelle and Lady Memory. Sorry for the long delay, but you can thank Potter Place that you're getting this update today and, now that I'm within half a chapter of finishing "Ether", the next shouldn't take so long. ("Lies" fans will have to practise patience, I'm afraid.)**

**The story till now: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters and occasional meetings, most recently to the ballet. But his past keeps butting in, and Harry's and Ron's objections make a little too much sense...**

The note arrived as she was balling up another failed attempt to write to him.

_I am here. Are you well? _

In just six words he'd offered to return them to acquaintances, and if she didn't write back by return owl it would be impossible to convince him she wasn't accepting the offer. It had been eleven days since their ill-starred outing to the ballet. He'd have needed reassurance that he hadn't scared her off, and all she'd given him was silence. But she certainly wasn't going to go back to "only a Gryffindor" and his turned back and "You can owl me once a month."

The dratted bird turned up its beak at tomatoes, lettuce, bananas, bread and even a muesli bar, but grudgingly accepted her last slice of bacon. Plain scrambled egg for breakfast tomorrow, then. She sat down again and took another sheet of paper.

_My dear friend,_

_There's nothing wrong, it's just I've been wrestling with demons. The boys finally turned up in my Floo last week and they managed to shake me. Not my belief in you (that would be impossible), but my trust in myself. I don't know if I'm as strong as you need me to be._

_How do you do it? How have you managed to keep forcing your way through rock with no one at your side to pull out your pick when it gets stuck? Just thinking about it, I'm in awe._

She pushed it aside and took another. Too gushing.

_I need to talk to you._

Too peremptory.

_I've been meaning to write, but – _

No! He'd imagine she thought him an unpleasant duty to apologise for shirking. She took another paper and paused. The owl hooted and flew past her shoulder to the fridge.

"Yes, yes, all right!" she muttered. "I'm trying." It hooted again, derisively, and looked meaningly at the window. With a sigh, she gave it the chicken fillet she'd set aside for dinner and cast her mind back through four months of letters.

_It's taken me more than seventeen separate attempts to decide what to say – _

That was the worst yet. How dare she steal his words as if her childish indecision paralleled his life's defining tragedy? She crumpled it up. Honesty, simple honesty.

_I've seen Harry and Ron. They said they're not going to interfere, but trying to fix you would break my heart. And like an idiot, I've been brooding ever since because I know they're kind of right and I know they're kind of wrong, and you'd be worth it anyhow, but it all gets tangled up in my head and I can't get the words out. When can we talk? I miss you a lot. (And Percy's offered me a job in his department. And I've told Ginny to butt out, but I'm not sure she'll listen.) _

It was only after the owl left that she remembered she hadn't said she was well. She hoped that was all he minded about.


	30. Gulp and Clench

GULP AND CLENCH

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers and my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory, and my apologies for the exceedingly long wait. I**** hope to get back to a regular posting schedule now; t**he next two chapters are already written.

**The story so far: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters and occasional meetings, most recently to the ballet. But his past keeps butting in, and Harry's and Ron's objections make a little too much sense. Sometimes honesty hurts... **

When she heard his voice in the Floo, she abandoned her tea and leapt for the hearth. His mouth was grim and he looked more sallow than ever.

_Oh, Severus. _

"Is it true? I'm breaking your heart?" he asked.

"What? No!" She knelt down to talk.

"But you said your friends were right," he reminded her.

So much for combining honesty with tact. That had never been her strong point.

"I said they were a little bit right: no one can fix you but yourself. But the rest was all wrong. You'd never break my heart. You'd never break anyone's."

"I've broken the heart of everyone who ever cared about me." The flames cast flickering shadows on his face.

Her hands were crossed loosely in her lap. She clenched the one he couldn't see.

"From what you've told me, I think it's the other way around."

"You can't know that," he said. "You've only ever heard my side."

"And you went out of your way to blame yourself for everything, but I formed my own opinion." _She couldn't ever have loved you; she married your worst enemy. But I know better than to tell you that. _

He bent his head. When he lifted it again, his eyes were dull. "I should never have told you. I've known from the outset that it would only distress you."

Her hand closed tighter. "I wanted you to tell me."

"That was kind of you, but –"

"It wasn't _kindness_. You're not a house-elf to me, Severus. I _like _you."

For a moment, his eyes unshuttered, and she saw what his turned back had shielded, that day in his office. She could only look and breathe and gulp, and clench her hands to stop the trembling.

"You don't like house-elves?" he said lightly.

She grimaced. They were stupid. It wasn't their fault, but they were, and stupidity set her teeth on edge. She wasn't going to talk about house-elves now.

"I like you," she said again. "But I don't know if liking is enough, in the long run. You feel, you feel so much _more_ than liking for me. I don't, I don't want to hurt you. And I don't know how not to."

He didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"To know that someone has cared for me is not a small pleasure. For that someone to be the one person in all the world ..." He looked away. "Perhaps I should never have offered my – my friendship. I hoped to give back some of the comfort I have found in knowing you, even from a distance. Not to burden you."

He needed a hug, but the only Hogwarts Floo you could travel through was in the headmaster's office. She wasn't going to involve the headmaster if she could help it; he'd meddled enough in Severus's life.

She settled for smiling at him. "I'm rather used to fighting my friends' demons," she said brightly. "I don't think yours will be as scary as Voldemort."


	31. Kind and Fair

KIND AND FAIR

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste , Cecelle and Lady Memory.**

******The story so far: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, furthered by exchanges of letters and occasional meetings. But his past keeps butting in, and so do her friends...**  


Her smile didn't waver as his eyes searched hers, but she didn't unclench her hand till he changed the subject. "You mentioned a job offer?"

She unstiffened her back and rolled her eyes. "I said no, but he insists on keeping the position open till January in case I change my mind. I'm sure he only wants me because I'm friends with his family."

"You think he wants your help to reconcile with them?" he asked.

"He doesn't want to reconcile. He still blames them for the split." A log crumbled and shifted. She poked it back in with the fire-iron. "I just don't trust him anymore."

His lips pursed. "He was never a malicious boy. My house found him annoyingly meddlesome, but kind and fair; even Draco didn't hate him, and he'd been brought up to despise all Weasleys._"_

"He changed when he started working for Crouch. He thought poor Winky _deserved_ to get clothes. Just for being afraid!" she complained.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Didn't Potter ever tell you that her negligence then almost set young Barty free?"

"Yes, but Percy didn't know that. He just thought his boss was always right. And he ended up ditching his own family."

"Because they thought Dumbledore was always right. Percy was on the rebound from worshipping at the same altar; naturally he looked for an opposite."

_You'd know about worshipping and altars and looking for opposites, wouldn't you?_

"I thought Dumbledore was always right, too," she admitted. The fire was burning low. She wanted to add a log, but was afraid she'd hit his face.

"Perhaps he was. We won in the end, didn't we, whatever he sacrificed along the way?"

_Like you._

Her feet were going numb. "I'm not any closer to understanding why Percy's so determined to hire me."

"Three reasons: Either because he thinks you're the best candidate, or he finds you attractive – "

"_Percy?_"

"Or, like his sister, he's trying to protect you." He gave her a straight look. "From me."

"They ought to trust my judgement." She uncurled her legs and hunched them in front of her, resting her chin on her knees.

"Do you always trust theirs?" he asked.

"Don't you mind that they're always criticising you to me?"

"I remember what it's like to try to persuade a friend she's making a mistake."

She wasn't going to talk about Lily.

"Will I see you before the holidays? It's your turn to pick somewhere. Er, probably not ballet." She grinned sideways. He nodded.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks, and fortunately, I'm off-duty. I thought, weather permitting, perhaps we could go on a picnic."

She'd never associated him with picnic rugs and plastic plates. Of course, he could conjure chairs and china if he preferred.

"Do you have somewhere particular in mind?" she asked.

"I do," he said. "Somewhere that I both shared with Lily – and did not."

The thought seemed to amuse him somehow. It didn't amuse her at all.

**A/N I base Snape's comments about Percy's dealings with Draco and other Slytherins on Percy's encounter with first Polyjuiced Ron and Harry then Draco in CoS, ch 13. He shows concern for the safety of Slytherins, does not punish outright rudeness and doesn't seem to have made himself Draco's enemy, despite the enmity of their parents/families ... even if he _is_ silly enough to say "I am a Prefect. Nothing's about to attack **_**me**_**."**

**Crouch sacked his house-elf Winky for failing, due to her fear of heights, to guard his insane Death Eater son at the Quidditch match she'd persuaded him to let him attend. Barty Jr promptly stole a wand, sent up a Dark Mark and was barely stopped from escaping.**


	32. Stop and Turn

STOP AND TURN

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste , Cecelle and Lady Memory. **

They stood on the summit of a hill, their backs to the cairn and the pole planted in it. Through the thinning fog she caught glimpses of rough moorland. Despite her parka and wool trousers, she shivered.

"Too exposed," he said, and Apparated them into thick woodland, away from the wind, the mingled scent of heather and peat bog, and the view.

"Where was that?" she asked, letting go of his hand and falling into step beside him.

"A place Lily found on a map once and laughed about for years after. Part of the Forest of Bowland. Although it's more moor and fell than forest." He closed his eyes and breathed deep. "We wanted to see it, but I couldn't afford the fare. We planned to go when we learned to Apparate, but by then we were no longer friends. I never did go."

"What was so funny?"

His lips quirked up briefly. "Its name," he said. "Fair Snape Fell."

_'You did,' _she thought, but smiled anyway. It _was_ funny. Fair wasn't an adjective she'd ever applied to him, in any sense of the word.

"And where are we now?" she asked.

"We haven't gone far," he said. "Ribble Valley. The happiest hours of my childhood – of my life – were spent in the woods, wandering through the trees or sitting under them. There was a little copse at the back of the park between my house and Lily's. Petunia didn't follow us there. Well, just the once."

They walked on. The leaves were green and gold and blazing orange. Many were still on the trees.

"Sometimes we'd even see deer. And we'd talk about – oh, everything." He stopped and turned to her. "So much of my life centred around Lily, so much that I lost because I didn't have the heart for it without her. Now, I'm taking it back."

_'With you,'_ his eyes said.

She smiled and touched his arm lightly. "This looks a likely place," she said. "Just on the edge of the glade. What have you brought for lunch?"

"I hope you like cheese sandwiches," he said. "Real Lancashire cheeses."

"Creamy or Tasty?"

"Crumbly," he said, transfiguring a fallen leaf into a thick rug and inviting her to sit. There was a tree-trunk to lean against. She left it for him.

The cheese was mildly tangy yet sweet, studded with raisin and bits of apple, and coated in cinnamon. He laughed at her surprise.

"I brought some plain, if you don't like it," he said.

She hadn't seen him laugh before. "I think I do," she said. "I think I do."

Eating didn't take long, even with conversation. She looked across at him as he leaned back, watching the clouds, and had a sudden mad wish to breathe sleep into his face and kiss his closed eyes, to trace the contours of his stern mouth as it relaxed.

She jumped up. "Er, it's been a lovely day," she said. "We must come back some time."

**A/N There really is a Fair Snape Fell in the Forest of Bowland in Lancashire; it's also known as Fairsnape Fell and, to the locals, Paddy's Pole. It has spectacular views and is popular with fell-runners and hang-gliders. And Bowland Cheese, with its apple, raisins or sultanas, and cinnamon really exists, although it's a fairly modern invention. Crumbly, creamy and tasty are the three traditional styles of Lancashire cheese.**


	33. Learn and Let Go

LEARN AND LET GO

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste , Cecelle and Lady Memory. **

Lunch with Neville was a welcome break in a day of present-shopping. His work at Villeroi Gardens absorbed and exhausted him; they hadn't met since the day he caught her here with Severus. Was that only five months ago?

"Why do you keep looking around?" she asked.

"Er, Snape's not joining us this time, is he?" asked Neville.

Hermione almost dropped her spoon. "Why should he be?"

"Ginny said you're practically engaged." He prodded at his sorrel sundae thoughtfully.

"We're just friends," she said, wiping rose and redcurrant ripple from her sleeve.

"That's what people always say."

And they never believed denials, so there wasn't much point arguing. Hermione sighed.

"Aren't you going to tell me I'm insane? Everyone else has."

He took a bite, then another bite.

"Do _you_ think you're insane?" he asked.

She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder." _Like when his eyelids suddenly seem enticing. _"He's quieter than I expected. Gentler. More forgiving. I like him a lot. But it still sometimes feels like I'm looking for a pot of gold in a minefield."

Neville's brow wrinkled. "Isn't that where Muggles usually keep their gold?"

"Not that sort of mine. A minefield is like, erm, hundreds of exploding cauldrons buried underground where you can't see to avoid them," she said.

"Oh." His brow smoothed. " Stands to reason you'd find the gold and I'd find the explosions, then."

* * *

"For as long as I've known you, you've been as miserable as a dragon at Gringotts." Minerva said. "You turned it aside when Pomona asked, but we've all noticed the difference, and been glad of it. You needn't be afraid to tell me. Is it Hermione that's sweetened your temper?"

Severus flattened his mashed potatoes with the back of his fork. "Not directly. We're just friends."

"People always say that." She cut another sliver of beef.

"She doesn't want more," he explained.

Her knife stilled. "And what do _you_ want?"

He fluffed up his potatoes and flattened them again. "When has that ever mattered? I told you I'm not the sort of man a teenager falls for. Even one as sensitive as Hermione."

"Then I understand even less."

He smiled a little. Just a little. "I have learnt not to undervalue friendship. She's encouraged me to do what I should have done a long time ago. Face the past, learn from it and let it go."

Over at the Gryffindor table, brown eyes burned.

"I wish I could transfigure him into a turkey for the holidays and serve him up for lunch," Ginny said. "With parsnips."

"That's going a bit far," Colin argued. "Your mum'd go spare."

"Just look at him! Smirking away because Hermione won't give him up! I've owled everyone," Ginny complained. "She just won't listen to reason."

"You owled her parents?" Colin asked in horror. "She'll kill you." He realised his mistake when Ginny's eyes gleamed. _'I'm an idiot. Of course she didn't think of them. What pureblood ever remembers Muggles?'_

"Maybe not quite everybody," Ginny said.

**A/N Villeroi Gardens has been mentioned before (ch 9) as the reason Neville couldn't come to Hermione's birthday dinner.**

**Sorrel is a rather sharp-tasting herb, harmless in small quantities, poisonous in large. Wiki likens the taste to kiwifruit or sour wild strawberries. A rather unusual choice for an icecream flavour, but wizards do seem to have some strange tastes ;~P**

**Ginny's eyes are "bright brown" in canon. (CoS, ch 3)**


	34. Beyond and Back

BEYOND AND BACK

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory. **

Severus let his eyes drift over Lincoln Cathedral, towering beyond, and back to the white Elizabethan pub where she'd proposed they have lunch. His lips quirked.

"The Lion and Snake? How very apposite. Should I commend your research?"

She grinned and ducked her head. "Mum heard about this place from a patient who went up for the Panto. She thought the name would make me laugh."

"And did it?"

"Not laugh, exactly. I think it shows that the two can coexist perfectly well alongside each other," she said mildly. "For hundreds of years, even."

"Or a thousand?" The entrance was narrow, but there was a pleasant eating area at the back. "Some people would call that optimism."

"What do you call it?"

"Desirable," he said softly.

They both looked hastily at their menus and the dangerous moment passed in ordering lunch and exchanging gifts. He would be spending the holiday at Hogwarts, as usual, and she was going to the Burrow – a little reluctantly, but anything was better than skiing.

"Too close to flying?" he asked, prising tape off paper.

She grimaced. "Exactly. Not my idea of fun. Not very Gryffindor of me, is it?"

"You've never needed to seek adventure; it's always come to find you. I imagine it's different for dentists." He inched the book out from its wrapping.

"I hope you like it," she said. "I was looking for something about Lancashire forests, but then I saw this. It was much the nicest tree book anywhere."

"_The Malvern Hills,_ by Archie Miles," he read. She wanted him to smile at her the way he was smiling at her gift, and then he was and she had to look away. "Thank you," he said simply. "This is exceptionally beautiful."

"So's this." He'd given her a cashmere scarf in a soft russet. She draped it around her neck and rubbed her cheek against it, watching him through half-veiled lids. "Mm, lovely." It was, but he was lovelier. Which was ridiculous, she knew, when his nose was just as large and his hair as limp as ever.

"I must admit to a selfish motive," he said. "Next time we visit the fells, I hope you'll be warm enough to linger."

She laughed.

Lunch, when it came, was hot and hearty. They dug in.

"Did you ever think, when you were growing up, that you'd like to be a teacher?" Hermione asked, swallowing a mouthful of cottage pie.

"Never. Did you?" He scooped up curried butternut squash and chickpeas.

"I spent seven years nagging Harry and Ron about homework. I knew I didn't want to do _that_ for the rest of my life," she said. "What's your excuse? Insanity? Habit?"

"Orders," he said shortly. "The one thing both my masters agreed on." He stared at his empty plate, his face grim, and added, "It gave me something to do. Somewhere to be except dead. People to care about that weren't her."

"Your colleagues?"

He rolled his eyes. "My _students_, Hermione."

**A/N: ****The Lion and Snake is a real pub in Lincoln, situated fairly close to both the castle and the cathedral. As Snape says, it seemed apposite ;~P Panto is a slang abbreviation of pantomime.**

_** The Malvern Hills: Travels Through Elgar Country**_** was published in 1992. I've found it listed in various online bookshops, but no one seems to have a copy, perhaps because Miles has since brought out another book on the Malvern Hills. The 1999 book was **_**Silva: the Tree in Britain**_**. The most recent is **_**A Walk in the Woods**_**. I highly recommend his work; the photography is luscious. **


	35. Turkey and Chipolata

TURKEY AND CHIPOLATA

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory.**

Potter interrupted the feast just after Severus finished his first bite of turkey and chipolata.

"You want to speak to _me_? _Now_?" He glanced meaningly at the spread table, but pushed back his chair on a nod from Dumbledore. "I'll walk you to the gates."

"I didn't expect you to come this easily," the boy – _man _– said, as they walked down the front steps and into the wind.

"I assume it's about Hermione?" Severus said.

"No, I've heard her lecture about butting out, thanks; I left her giving it to the Weasleys. But, well, I said something about you holding grudges against dead people for twenty years, and she said it's not that simple."

Severus thought of all the years he'd kept his secrets inside, like pus in a boil. He pulled his cloak more tightly around him and strode on.

"I remember your Sorting feast," he said, when the lake was behind them. "Those eyes in that face, hating me, as she learnt to. Your father and Petunia loathed me on sight, but your mother was my best friend once. For years."

"But you called her a Mudblood!"

"My father always said all women were lying whores, and when I saw her flirting with yours while I lay choking, for one insane moment I let myself agree. I thought – that word – would be less offensive. Everyone said it, in Slytherin."

He glanced at the boy, but those green eyes were turned downward.

"After that she wanted nothing to do with me. I persuaded myself that joining the Dark Lord was my only hope of protecting her. If he won, he'd owe me, I hoped; if not, she'd be safe from him, and what did it matter if I was dead or in Azkaban? And then, one day, I heard a prophecy..." He swallowed.

Lily Potter's son stopped. He stopped too and stared at the path, blindly, waiting.

"Then it was you?"

"It was. Now do you see?" If he looked past the blaze in those eyes, he could see the big beech tree he'd once been ambushed from. He couldn't look past those eyes. "I can't see you without remembering that I killed her. That I earned your hatred; that I deserve it. And you were so like your reckless arrogant father that I was sure I'd fail again and lose you too, the last of Lily that exists in this world."

He waited.

"Well? Have you nothing to say?"

"Only _one _insane moment?" Lily's son said irrelevantly. "Ron would say you're a complete fruitcake."

"Potter!"

"If you're wanting to know whether I hate you more or less or about the same, you'll have to wait. I need to think about it." He kicked at a loose pebble. "Was it really all for my mum? What about everyone else?"

Severus lifted his chin. "Everyone else could _rot_; I hoped they would." _Then._

"Then why did you work so hard to save us?" Harry asked.

Severus sighed. "I grew up."

**A/N Turkey and chipolata sausages were two of the foods served at Harry's first year Xmas feast.**


	36. Banked and Turned

BANKED AND TURNED

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory. **

**The story so far: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops. Her other friends say she "can't fix him", and she knows they're right. Because no one can fix him but himself.**

**Last chapter, Harry interrupted Xmas dinner (lunch) at Hogwarts to confront Snape, and got some answers he wasn't expecting...**

"I'm sorry about yesterday. Was it really bad?" she asked as they left the castle behind.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? Weren't you lecturing the Weasleys about minding their own business?"

"Not all of them. Fred and George only tease, and Ron knows I don't need a minder." She took his hand and Apparated them both to the fell. "Don't let's talk about me. Are you all right? If I'd known it would send Harry off like that, I'd have kept my mouth shut."

His hand curled around hers and he lifted his face to the thin wintry sun, letting the wind blow through him. A smile tugged at his mouth. "You should have known," he said lightly. "He's always been a bit of a Weasleys' Whiz-banger."

She didn't let go. In the silence, he followed her gaze to a distant peregrine that banked and turned, and hurtled groundwards.

"But never without a reason," she said slowly. "I didn't know he was so eager to know you."

"He isn't." But the boy hadn't asked about Hermione, nor about his parents.

"He must be," she said. "Or he'd have finished lunch first."

The same bird or another rose and streaked past, still climbing.

"He has friends and well-wishers," she said. "Ron's like family; Sirius was too. It's not enough. It never was."

He swallowed hard. "The Weasleys are fond enough of him."

"They love him," she said. "But not like he's their own. He's always 'Harry dear' to Molly, he's always welcomed, but she never yells at him when he's being an idiot. It's like she doesn't dare, like he's a baby-Dumbledore, famous and powerful and with eccentricities to be humoured." She laughed unhappily. "I never noticed that before," she said. "I wish I hadn't noticed it now."

Her other hand slipped into his and he held tight. He supposed she felt cold.

"Lupin?" he said desperately.

"When did he ever take responsibility for anything? I _liked _him, but I'm glad I never needed him."

"Dumbledore, then," he said. "Minerva. Anybody."

The sky was a pale clear grey. The colour of Draco's eyes. Eye. Hermione's eyes were warm and brown, like bracken in autumn. But it was winter now.

"You. Only you. Even when you acted like you hated him, you _cared _what he did. You always cared."

"It was the least I could do. I orphaned him."

"It was the most you could do," she said, and something in his chest unfroze. "You're the closest thing to a father he has."

* * *

Of course the boy _would _be playing Quidditch now. Severus stood with the Burrow at his back, and watched and waited till the boy noticed him and swooped down.

"What is it? I told you I needed time to think about things," he said.

Severus scowled up at four accusing Weasley faces rather than return that hard green glare. "There's more to say."

"What? Right _now_?"

He gritted his teeth. "At your convenience," he said.


	37. Lunge and Punch

LUNGE AND PUNCH

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Cecelle and Lady Memory.**

Ginny saw Harry, pocketed the Quaffle, and flew down, followed by the twins, but Ron was closer and got there first.

"So, what did the git say? Still not going to tell us?" asked Ron cheerfully.

"Still thinking. It's strange." _I thought it was all about my father and really it was all about my mother. Funny how Dumbledore got that so wrong._

"Strange, how?" said Ginny.

_My father wrecked his life. My mother was his life._

"Old Snape and young Hermione, of course." Fred waggled his eyebrows. "Now that's a match made in the Isle of Drear."

"Although how she managed to find the only two-legged Quintaped in the place..." added George.

"Research! Always been good with the research, has our Hermione." Fred waggled his eyebrows again, and Ginny bounced her Quaffle off his head.

"Let him talk!" she said.

"We talked about Hermione and – other things." _Your mother was my friend because we grew up together. Hermione is my friend because she likes me _– _finds something in me worth liking._ "He's a pretty good friend to her, you know. Makes me wonder how we compare."

"I used to have someone older I thought was a pretty good friend," Ginny said. "He lived in a diary."

Harry frowned. "Hermione's not eleven, and Snape's not Voldemort."

"He was a Death Eater and a spy. That means he's good at lying, _and_ he's betrayed every friend he ever had."

"No one's saying Snape's not a git –" said Ron.

"A greasy green and silver git."

"– but he's been trying to do Dumbledore's 'right, not easy' trick since we were toddlers –"

"Stinky ickle bubs with bottles you were," George interrupted.

Ron lunged suddenly and punched his brother's arm. "And he's not going to stop now. Hermione slapped Malfoy in third year; she can handle Snape." He dodged a return Bludger with a neat Sloth Grip Roll.

"That's what we're afraid she's doing," said Fred, with another waggle.

The twins cackled and Ginny scowled, but Harry was thinking about Snape.

"_I thought I'd said everything, but I was wrong. I didn't say I'm sorry."_

_"For getting__ my mum killed? I know __that_."

_"Both your parents."_

_"You hated my father." _

_"He earned my hatred every day for seven years. But he was right in the end; I did become an evil dark wizard. Because of me, you__ ended up with Petunia. That must have been unspeakable."_

"Y_ou weren't any better when I came to school."_

_"I know. I should have tried harder. All you saw was my – my discomfort."_

_"Loathing!" _

_"No. I know it seemed like that. I'm sorry. That was inexcusable."_

_"You were always hassling me in class for nothing."_

_"I was your teacher, Potter. Correcting you was my job."_

_"And your pleasure!"_

_"To feel that I was doing my duty, yes, I took pleasure in that. I'm aware that I'm not a popular teacher. I'm not a popular man. I was not a popular boy. Don't expect me to change."_

_"You've already changed."_

**A/N According to _Fantastic Beasts_, "The Quintaped is a highly dangerous carnivorous beast with a particular taste for humans ...found only upon the Isle of Drear..." **


	38. Slopes and People

SLOPES AND PEOPLE

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory. ****Warning: one mildly rude word.**

**************The story so far: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops, to the dismay of her other friends, especially Ginny... **  


Hermione frowned down at her mother's letter. In amongst the accounts of ski slopes and the various pleasant people she and Dad had met over gluhwein were a few lines of more personal relevance.

_By the way, we received the most extraordinary letter from Ron's sister this morning, full of dark warnings about your old Potions Professor and his wicked wiles. I know you're old enough and sensible enough to choose your friends wisely, but I couldn't help worrying a little. Are you sure you can trust her? She sounds rather vindictive._

Hermione blinked. "Sure you can trust _her_?" And smiled.

There was nothing more on the subject till the post-script.

_Hermione? Is there something you want to tell us? He's a charming dinner-companion, but we thought he was just there to chaperon._

"I don't know, Mum," she said. "I just don't know."

* * *

_Hi Mum,_

_Glad to hear you've both been enjoying your holiday. Tell Dad to drink another glass on my behalf; gluhwein is the only part of skiing I remember fondly, but you never let me have more than one sip._

_Severus was a very short-tempered teacher, but I always admired him for his brilliance, and during the war I learnt that he was also brave and loyal and good. When I finished school, I asked if I could keep in touch, and since then I've_

somehow managed to fall headlong in love with him, which even I know is insane.

But how could I help it?

_become quite fond of him. I've already had words with Ginny_

If I'd known about her letter to you at the time, it would have been hexes.

_about her attempts to run my life. I'll definitely have second thoughts before confiding in her_

talking to her

_ever again._

_All my love_

that's left over from Severus...

That sounds so soppy. I am soppy over him. Completely soppy.

I never meant for this to happen.

_Hermione_

* * *

_GINNY MOLLY WEASLEY!_

_IF YOU EVER STICK YOUR FRECKLY NOSE INTO MY BUSINESS AGAIN, I'LL TWIST IT OFF AND_

conjure up the Neverland crocodile to feed it to. Pity Ginny wouldn't get that reference. Colin would. Hmm, Colin. Didn't Harry mention something about a photograph Ginny showed him? All the ones _she'd_ seen were perfectly innocent, though.

_SELL IT FOR LETHIFOLD BAIT! HOW BL**DY DARE YOU?_

* * *

_Hi Colin,_

_You did give me all the photos you took at my birthday, didn't you? You're sure you didn't miss any?_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Severus,_

_What are you doing on New Year's Eve? Perhaps we could see in the new year together?_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Hermione._

_You're very welcome, but I'm afraid it will be a rather sombre evening here. There will be a commemorative service at the edge of the forest, honouring those of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade who fell in the late war._

"_At the ringing out of the year, we will remember them," Dumbledore said. As if there was ever a time we forgot them._

_Severus_


	39. Grief and Remembrance

GRIEF AND REMEMBRANCE

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory.**

******************The story so far: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops. Last chapter, they arranged to attend** a commemorative service on Hogmanay eve for the war dead of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.  


The crowd began to break up and drift away, voices gradually rising. Grief and remembrance served, it was time to drink the new year in with a few good rounds.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Severus said. "You rather avoided the battle scenes afterwards, as I recall. Your friends wandered over here every day at first, while you holed yourself up in the library and studied."

"I hated remembering. But I still dreamt." Hermione moved closer and slipped one hand into his. "I never told you how much you helped. 'Heal Draco in your sleep,' you said. I did, after that. Draco and Hannah and everyone." She shrugged. "Me." _You. Especially you, my dearest;so broken for so long. It hurts my heart to watch you._ "The truth is I felt ashamed," she added. "You said, 'As if we could ever forget,' but I do now, for days."

"As you should," he said roughly, and swallowed. "You don't have _this_ to remind you. And no actions of your own – "

"– to regret, I know." Her fingers stroked the back of his hand. "But I do anyway. Did I do enough? Could I have done more? We lost so many." She nodded to Padma, who stared dully back and turned away.

"That's self-indulgence, not regret."

She nudged a little closer, pressing the whole length of her arm against him. The trees were dark and bare. Winter had not brought snow.

"Perhaps there's a little self-indulgence in all regret," she said. "Whenever we focus on what we did or didn't do, instead of what we can do next time."

"Hermione! Welcome!" Professor McGonagall paused beside them. "Do you two join us at Rosmerta's for Hogmanay or do you prefer to enjoy the moonlight with – What did you say she called you, Severus? Her favourite professor?"

"Not 'favourite'," he said with a sideways smile. "Most important in her life."

Hermione tried not to giggle. "You really are a _git _sometimes_,_" she told him, and turned to his older colleague. "I hope you weren't offended, Professor. It's just, well, he was always there, protecting us, guiding us. I wasn't ready to let that go. It's not, I mean, I know you were too busy."

"Don't apologise. We were all too busy. Just busy differently. I've always believed in letting students find their own way. Perhaps one needs to have lost it for a while to appreciate the difficulties of the less sure-footed. But you chose your path early."

Hermione smiled politely and squeezed Severus's hand. There had been times... But she was all the stronger for having lived through them without the crutch of a teacher's pity. Professor McGonagall was who she was and Severus was who _he_ was; pity had never been part of him.

"We might be along later," she said.

"No hurry. It would be a shame to waste the moonlight." The older woman squelched away through the mud.

Hermione stared after her. "Did she just _wink _at me?"


	40. Big and Burning

BIG AND BURNING**  
**

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory. Apologies for the long wait. Two family weddings and all the assorted folderol consumed me completely.**

**The story till now: ****After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship slowly develops. As the mourners of Hogwarts drift off to their Hogmanay celebrations, Snape and Hermione talk. It would be a shame to waste the moonlight...**

"I hope she didn't make you uncomfortable," he said. _Minerva __had __no __business __winking._ _Interfering __old __biddy._

"Relieved, actually. I've been wondering how to bring it up."

For one wild moment, he thought she meant hairballs. But Minerva was the cat, not Hermione, not since her second year. Even though they were both lions. He swallowed. Was she about to let him down gently? He knew it would be gentle. She was no Lily.

She looked around at the bare ground and the disappearing backs of mourners turned revellers. "Not here, I think," she said, and tugged him away, as far as the clearing near the lake. She stopped, still holding on. _It __is __to __be __here, __then_, he thought. _Again. _He readied his heart for breaking.

"I wanted you as a friend," she said. "But it won't do." She paused and he watched her glance at fifty different things before fixing on his chin. "It isn't enough. For months now, all I've thought when I looked at you was how much I want to kiss you better all over." Her face flamed. His did too.

"Hermione." His hands were too big and his chest was burning and his lips were drier than an unwashed cauldron.

"You didn't know, then?" she said when he did nothing but stare. "I thought, maybe. You seemed to pick thoughts out of the air when we were in school. But you're too honourable to pry for your own life, aren't you? You're the honestest person I know."

"Honestest?"

"Dearest, bravest, truest." Both her hands were holding both of his now, and she squeezed and he squeezed too.

"I don't know what to do," she continued.

_I __could __show __you._All the things his hands could do, if they weren't holding the hot potato; he'd never imagined a time would ever come.

"I'm not a casual person," she said. "You're not either. But this wasn't in my plans and I don't - I don't - I'm not even twenty! I wasn't going to fall in love for years and years."

"Love?" he asked, despising himself for a dunderhead. "You think – love? Are you sure? It's not just – just respect and – and – I don't want to offend you, but students so easily imagine –"

She growled. She actually growled. "Severus Snape! You trusted in my friendship. Why should you feel differently about my love?"

"Because it _is _different," he said. "If I'd dreamed there was even a chance of you returning my feelings I wouldn't have told you them, not so soon after I stopped teaching you. It wouldn't have been right."

She huffed out a gasp or a laugh, he wasn't sure which, and he realised she'd been waiting for him to say he still wanted her. Of course he did. He'd never stop. And she was so near right now. One step closer and he could engulf her forever and live from her sweetness.

"You'll always do what's right, won't you? So tell me, is it right now?"


	41. Right and Wrong

RIGHT AND WRONG

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein. **

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Lady Memory. **

**The story till now: After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, unexpected friendships develop. Last chapter, Hermione declared her feelings:**

"**You'll always do what's right, won't you? So tell me, is it right now?" **

"I want it to be right," he said, and frowned. "With my record, that probably means it isn't."

"That's just silly. I've never met anyone I'd trust more than the man you are now. Forget it's you and me, and start from first principles. What would make it wrong? And what would make it not? Answer those and you'll answer everything."

He laughed unhappily. "How did I become your hero? Why me, of everyone?"

She didn't know at first. "Mostly because you chose us over yourself. Most of us only ever had one side we could fight for. For you it was the other one, but you didn't stay there. Turning your back on your allies – friends, hopes, dreams – must have been the hardest thing."

His eyes flicked to the big beech tree at the water's edge and back to her. Had his face darkened, or was it only a cloud hiding the moon?

"No." He swallowed. "Staying would have been harder. Everything I cared about was on your side. I also only ever had one side I could fight for. It just took me longer to realise which it was."

"You mean Lily." She'd have pulled away if his hands weren't locked so tightly round hers. "It's always Lily. When you hesitate over whether this – us – is right, I can't help wondering if it's because your heart's still too full of her to have room for me."

"You, always you," he said, and drew her closer. "You show me – you've always shown me, but I didn't understand until recently – what she wasn't. Loving. Forgiving. Kin. At least, she wasn't to me. She may have been to him. I suppose she was. I hope she was; they had little enough time together."

She wanted to believe him.

"She was the only other magical child in a world full of Muggles." He was looking at her with painful intensity. "I thought that made us kin, and spun and wove my dreams around her so thickly, I couldn't see that's where the likeness stopped. I don't think I'd ever have been able to let go, if not for you. "

She could feel the pulse of his heart through their fingers, as if it was his blood rushing through her veins."I didn't do anything."

"You didn't need to. You just were." His head bent towards hers and she could feel the tickle of his breath. "You're just you. " _Closer._ "All those years I hated myself because I couldn't hate her. For abandoning me. For loving him. But people love who they love. She fitted him, not me. I fit you, not her. It's not right or wrong; it just is."

"Then that's your answer, right there. If it just is, what are you beating yourself up for? Right, wrong, who cares? Stop holding back. You love me. I love you. What does anything else matter?"

His lips were close enough to kiss. She angled upwards.

"Right and wrong always matter," he said.


	42. Life and after

LIFE AND AFTER

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.**

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers Bellegeste and Lady Memory, who supported me through multiple drafts of this chapter.**

**After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship develops and deepens. But no man is an island, and no couple either. ****Last chapter:**

**"You love me. I love you. What does anything else matter?"  
"Right and wrong always matter," he said.**

What could she say? She supposed it was true, but for her people had always mattered more. Enough dithering; you couldn't be Ron Weasley's second-best friend for seven years without learning plain speaking.

"Do you remember asking did I think you were made of stone?" she said, and watched his eyelids crease. "Are you sure you're not? Because I'm well within your arms' reach now."

He couldn't be. Stone didn't tremble.

"For the rest of your life," he said, "and even after, there'll be people who think less of you. They'll question your motives, your actions, your achievements. And there'll be nothing you can do. Even if you renounced me, the smear would remain. Are you sure I'm worth that?"

"The _smear_?" she repeated. "So you do think we're wrong."

She shivered. Moonlight gleamed on the half-frozen lake. The beech tree's arms shook in the wind. He drew her closer, under his cloak.

"No. You're not under my authority. You're not dependent on my good will. You're not in any way beholden." He let his head fall forward until their foreheads touched, and his hair shielded both of them from the night. "But we look wrong, and you'll suffer for it."

"I don't care." She tilted her head to look into his eyes. Their noses bumped, and she smiled. _Eskimo kisses__. __Halfway to real ones._

"Looks don't matter. Achievements don't, either. And pleasing everybody except myself doesn't even come close," she said. _If war had taught her anything, it was this._ "Love is what matters – all that matters, really. I've never been surer of anything in my life."

"When I was your age, I was sure that a snake on my arm would bring me good fortune," he reminded her.

"Yes, but we agreed that I'm wiser than you, didn't we?" She reached up to caress his cheek, and he leaned into it.

"Hermione –"

"Don't think so much," she said, threading her other hand through his hair and nudging him closer. "You're not who they say you are. Don't try to be."

"Do you know what you've given me?" he said. "Happiness. Forgiveness. Trust. Friendship. All the things I thought I could never deserve - that everyone's born deserving, but that I'd always thought couldn't apply to me, until I saw myself in your eyes." His breath tickled her lips. She smiled again, wider.

"And all you have to give in return is you," she said. "I think I'm getting the better end of the deal, personally. You for my very own - do you think you can bear it?"

It seemed that he could.

...

"Send _me_ a Howler, will you, Hermione Granger? We'll just see about that." Ginny's teeth gripped an inch of lower lip. Her parents had scolded her, Harry and Ron were ignoring her, Colin was demanding to know what she'd done with the photos from Hermione's party that she'd "borrowed", and even the twins thought she was wrong. But how could Hermione and Snape be _right_?

**A/N ****The "made of stone ... arm's reach" line is from ch 3.**

**No offense intended to Inuit readers by "eskimo kisses".**


	43. Sharp and Pointed

SHARP AND POINTED

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.**

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers Bellegeste and Lady Memory, who supported me through multiple drafts of this chapter.**

**After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship develops and deepens. But no man is an island, and no couple either, and the past casts a long shadow...**

Hermione's mother distributed the teacups. "When are we going to meet your beau?" she said.

Hermione sighed. "You have met him."

"He wasn't your beau then." Her mother's voice sharpened "Was he?"

"Of course not. I was barely out of school."

"You're barely out now." Her father pointed out.

"Six months," she said. "Almost seven. It's enough. "

"Is it?" he asked.

"_Yes._"

Her parents glanced at each other. It was Mrs Granger's turn.

"He was a Death Eater."

"Before I was born," Hermione said, stirring her tea very hard.

"That doesn't make it better." Mr Granger picked up his cup and put it down again. "People died. He was responsible. How do you tell his victims that you love their killer?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth. "He changed. He's a hero now. The best man I know."

"Is that what you're planning to tell your children?"

Hermione swallowed too much tea and started coughing. "I suppose so."

"Daddy did very bad things once?" her father scoffed.

"Mmm, and he's very sorry and he's been trying ever since to mend them." She swirled her tea. "I'm sorry you don't like it -"

"Don't like it? Don't _like _it?"

"Calm down, dear. Remember what the doctor said. We've always trusted your judgement, Hermione. We want to trust it now. But he's such a smooth talker, as a spy would have to be, I suppose. Are you sure you can see past his charm?"

When Hermione could stop laughing, she told them. "I've never noticed his charm, Mum. Only his honesty."

* * *

Hermione edged over to make room on the couch. He sat down beside her and stretched his feet to the warm hearth.

"What did they say?" he asked.

"To bring you next time." She slipped her hand in his. "Don't be hasty; consider your history; what will I tell our children -"

He choked. "Our _children_? I didn't know we had any."

"Oh, very funny, you." She snuggled closer. "One day."

He smiled.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I could lead in to this slowly with questions about Italy and Aurory and how you're liking them, but that seems dishonest. Silly too, because I saw you last week at the Burrow and heard your answers. So I'll just come straight out with it._

_How do you really feel about me and Severus? Now that you know what happened between him and your parents, what he did. Whether or not you can forgive him, can you forgive me? Because I know it all and it doesn't change what I feel. What I intend. You're the most forgiving person I know, but can you forgive this?_

_Before you ask, no, we're not actually engaged, so please don't do a Ginny on me now. Only that we will be sooner or later._

_I'm still your friend. Nothing could change that. But are you still mine?_

_Hermione_

_PS Let me tell Ron myself, OK? I just needed to talk to you first – and not by Floo._

**A/N Review replies will be delayed as I'll be offline for most of the next two weeks.**


	44. Still and Always

STILL AND ALWAYS

**Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.**

**A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers Bellegeste and Lady Memory, who supported me through multiple drafts of this chapter.**

**After Professor Snape reveals his true feelings to a newly graduated Hermione, an unexpected friendship develops and deepens. But no man is an island, and no couple either, and the past casts a long shadow.**

**(From Hermione's previous letters:**

**_Dear Harry, _****_How do you really feel about me and Severus? (ch 42)_**

**_Hi Colin, _****_You did give me all the photos you took at my birthday, didn't you? You're sure you didn't miss any? (ch 38) )_**

* * *

_Ouch, Hermione. How can you ask me that?_

_I don't know. That's the short answer. You'll always be my friend. You were when you fancied Lockhart, and you still are if you fancy Snape, but for the rest I just don't know. Maybe in six months or six years or six lifetimes I could tell you._

_Look, I get that he's really, really sorry for telling the prophecy and accidentally (if that's the right word) getting my parents killed, and going off at me all the time when he had to teach me. I get that the hatred I always felt rolling off him was about him, not me, that it was for him, not me. I even get that he's a good person who went wrong, not the evil git he seemed. But he did do all of that, and it ruined my childhood. It almost ruined me. I can forgive him, but how can I forget it?_

_Can I forget that my parents died when they were barely older than we are now? Can I forget that I got to live with people who hated me and made me feel it every day? (Although, if Snape could make such a good show of hating me when he inwardly meant me the best, maybe it's true for them too? Or Aunt Petunia, anyway. Ugh, that turns everything wrongway up.) Can I forget that I've had to spend my whole life as some big pretend-hero in the world's eye because he gave the prophecy to the one idiot who could make it self-fulfilling?_

_What do you think, Hermione, can I?_

* * *

_I'm not going to blow up at you, but do you think I'm stupid? I was _there_ when Harry got your letter and when he couldn't tell me what it was for, that was a dead giveaway. It's Snape, isn't it? You're insane is all I can say, completely nutters. But all the more reason for your friends to support you so we can be there to pick up the pieces when you need it._

_Still and always your friend_

_Ron_

* * *

_You two are the best friends ever. Who knew I'd learn to be grateful to a troll?_

_Harry, of course you can't forget it. I'd never expect you to. But together, perhaps we can eventually make enough happier memories to draw the venom from the wound. He's more like you than you know. You'll never need to pick up the pieces for me, Ron, but I thank you so very much for offering._

* * *

_Ginny,_

_What did you do!? Hermione's asking about the other photo. How does she even know?_

_Colin_

* * *

_Tell her there wasn't one._

It wasn't a lie. There were two: the one they'd cut and spliced to hide her prank, and the copy she'd trimmed back and Confunded into unrestraint. It was deeply creepy to see Snape smile like that at Hermione, and Hermione smile back. But not creepy enough, apparently; she'd have to spice it up.


End file.
